


The Union Of The Snake

by kcstories



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: Angry Unpleasant Harry (initially), EXTREME Canon Divergence, Happy Ending, M/M, Not canon compliant and does not pretend to be, Out of Character, Polyamory, Psychological Trauma, Smut, Threesome, Violence, rage issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-07-31
Updated: 2007-07-31
Packaged: 2017-10-05 20:20:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 25
Words: 47,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/45703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kcstories/pseuds/kcstories
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When an old parchment gets soaked during a Potions mishap, an unwelcome visitor from the past appears and turns Harry's seventh year into something entirely unexpected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** The Potterverse is JKR's, not mine. Written for fun, not profit.  
> **Warnings (please read these before yelling at me):** Violence, adult language, sexual situations, threesome, **OOC-ness**, voyeurism, under 18, mention of past sexual abuse. Also, Harry is extremely unpleasant (as in: a complete bastard and an unhinged one at that) in the first few chapters. There are reasons for this, of course, but if you want a heroic Harry who always does the right and fair thing, this probably isn't the story for you.  
> **Regarding ships** (skip if you don't want to know yet): Tom Riddle/Draco, Tom/Harry, Draco/Harry, Tom/Draco/Harry, Ron/Hermione (established), Blaise/Ginny (established), Pansy/Neville (established) and Greg/Luna (established).  
> **A/N:** This story takes some of the events of the first six books into account, but **it doesn't pretend to bear more than a passing resemblance to canon**. The timeline regarding Tom Riddle's past actions, for one, has been changed around.

Everything started with an impressive bang.

It wasn't the first Potions mishap that week, but this time around, the consequences were rather more serious than usual.

The loud explosion sent the cauldron's contents flying in all directions and somehow, the pungent concoction also found its way into Harry's satchel, where it soaked through an old parchment that probably shouldn't have been there in the first place. On the night of his arrival, Harry had found it hidden under his pillow. He'd been meaning to show it to Hermione, ask for her advice, but somehow, in the middle of the hustle and bustle of the first week back at school, the whole thing had completely slipped his mind.

  
At the bottom of Harry's bag, a drawing of a snake came to life. It slowly slithered off the parchment, out of the bag and onto the floor.

  
None of the students noticed. They were too busy laughing at the person responsible for the ugly mess. Neville Longbottom no longer received detention for his repeated 'accidents', but his clumsiness remained as entertaining as ever

  
"Come on," Professor Slughorn said. "Settle down, please, ladies and gentlemen."

His words were spoken in vain, however, for he lacked not only Professor Snape's skills but also the man's unwavering authority. Students continued to laugh, and point in an all too childish manner, until Hannah Abbott's piercing scream suddenly cut through the room.

  
An ominous silence fell. All eyes turned to the back of the class and the spot she appeared to be staring at.

  
There stood Tom Riddle. He looked about sixteen and was wearing a Slytherin uniform from many decades ago.


	2. Sympathy For The Devil

"Mister Potter," the headmistress said in the calmest tone she could possibly manage, given the circumstances, "much as I empathise with your reluctance to..."

"Reluctance?!" he rudely cut her off. "This isn't reluctance. This is an outright refusal! I vanquished that bastard four months ago. I've done my duty. You..." He glared at all present. "You no longer have any right to expect anything from me!"

Harry crossed his arms and waited, ready to yell blue murder at the first person who might have the gall to insist.

Harry's summer had been hell; so much death and despair, so many mangled corpses, the memory of which still gave him frequent nightmares.

On the seventeenth of September, he'd finally defeated Voldemort and at long last, calm had returned to the wizarding world.

Early January, Hogwarts had reopened and Harry had returned for his seventh year, fervently hoping that things would be nice and normal for a change. After all, he'd been through more than enough to deserve a bit of bit of peace and quiet, hadn't he?

No, clearly not, because once again, fate had gone and kicked him in the bollocks.

He had no intention of helping this time around, though. Tom Riddle just wasn't his problem any longer, and that was that.

"Mister Potter…"

Harry wasn't terribly surprised to find it was Professor Snape who spoke next.

In truth, Harry still had trouble believing that everything the man had done last year, including Dumbledore's foul murder, had been at the headmaster's own request, but even for The Boy Who Lived To Defeat The Dark Lord, there was no going against the Wizengamot's verdict, not in this case.

So Snape was back at Hogwarts too, teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts. Harry thought that was a slightly ironic and highly inappropriate development, but again, he seemed to be the only one offended by the irony.

"Mister Potter, at least have the common courtesy to look at me when I'm speaking to you."

Harry raised his eyebrows and gave the man a challenging look.

Snape didn't rise to the bait, however, nor did he appear the least bit intimidated. "It would seem," he said with a sneer, "that your little misadventure with my old textbook last year taught you absolutely nothing. Not that this comes as much of a surprise to me, but nonetheless... When you discovered the enchanted parchment, Mister Potter, pray tell, why did you not show it to your Head of House? Why did you just pocket it and continue on your merry way, instead? Was there in fact a method to your madness, or was it more the usual case of 'wait and see', with Miss Granger on stand-by to clean up the mess and pick up the pieces, if so required?"

Harry opened his mouth to say something in his defence, but Professor Lupin cut in first. "He has a point, Harry. Why didn't you come to me? This need never have happened, if..."

"Oh. So this is suddenly my fault now?" Harry yelled. "I wanted the bastard back, did I? I was getting a little bored with the lack of bodies to trip over, so I decided to go for round two, is that it?"

Remus took a deep breath. "All we are saying, Harry, is that you could have been a little more careful. Just because the Da…" He cleared his throat. "Just because Voldemort's gone, doesn't mean there's no Dark Magic left. There are still traces of it all around us, there are still objects that..."

Harry shook his head. He couldn't believe this was happening, and he couldn't believe they had the nerve to try and pin it on him, either, make him feel guilty for something that wasn't even remotely his fault. It wasn't as if he'd put the bloody scroll under his pillow, himself, was it? Or asked for Riddle to return, either.

All he'd wanted was a quiet year, without incidents and adventures and especially without Dark Lords. _Gods_, would this crap never end?

Professor Lupin, meanwhile, was still talking, but Harry decided that he'd heard enough of the man's lectures and veiled accusations and other rubbish, more than enough. This was just like last August all over again.

"FINE!" Harry shouted. "You know what? If you're all so sodding brilliant and already know everything, anyway, then you can bloody well sort this out amongst yourselves, too!"

With that, he stormed out of the headmistress' office, slamming the door shut behind him.

Minerva McGonagall shook her head sadly. "This is hopeless," she said with a deep sigh. "That boy... He's become so cold, distant and volatile since the war."

"Not to mention more arrogant and insufferable than ever before," Snape interjected. "The mind boggles at how that was even possible, but here we are..."

Minerva decided to ignore the sarcasm and went on, "I suppose I shouldn't sympathise with Mister Riddle, considering who he is, but he looks so lost, so confused and the poor lad has nowhere to go, either... Merlin, I wish Albus were still here. He was always so much better at assessing people and dealing with crises and..."

"Slytherin House will look after Mister Riddle," Snape said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"But Horace, he'll…" Remus began.

"No, Slughorn probably won't like it much." Snape sounded almost amused. "But we both know he no longer has any say in the matter, don't we, Lupin? Not now that I'm back in charge." Smirking, he crossed his arms and bellowed, "Rinfy!"

Almost instantly, the rattled elf came running into the room. "You called for me, Master?"

"Yes. Kindly fetch Mister Malfoy for me, would you? And do be quick about it!"

"Yes, Master." The creature bowed and hurried out again.

"Severus," Minerva began carefully, "are you quite sure? Young Draco... I mean, he's still so fragile after..."

"Draco will be fine. And unlike the Potter brat, he's been raised to respect his elders, so he'll put his own feelings aside and do as he's told."

Minerva frowned. "I'll trust your judgment on this, Severus," she finally said, even though she wasn't terribly convinced. A sinking feeling of dread had been with her ever since she'd first heard about Tom Riddle's return. Whatever awaited them now, it couldn't possibly end well.

 


	3. Eggshells

Hermione shook her head sadly and watched her best friend stomp up the stairs to the seventh year dorms. She knew from experience that going after him would be pointless. He'd only yell, punch walls and throw things like he always did lately.

She had hoped Harry's general mood would improve once they were back at Hogwarts. It hadn't. It had only worsened, with his overall attitude becoming more worrying and infuriating by the day.

"I can't believe how rude he said he was to the teachers." She sighed. "To an extent, I can understand his frustration with Professor Snape, but honestly, what has poor Remus Lupin ever done to him?"

Ron shrugged. "I dunno, Hermione. Lately, Harry just seems more and more..."

"... unhinged?"

"Yeah, that's the word, all right. And you know, I've been thinking, maybe he wouldn't be so down in the dumps if he had someone special in his life. I mean, everyone's paired up, aren't they? You and me, Fred and Angelina, Ginny and Zabini, even Neville and Parkinson, and Luna and Goyle... I feel a little sorry for Harry, sometimes. He rid the world of that bastard and now he's all alone. It doesn't seem altogether fair, does it?"

Hermione sighed. "Perhaps I should try to talk to him about dating. But really, I'm not so sure if he's ready for anything like that yet. He's been through so much these past couple of years, and with his aunt and uncle getting killed last summer as well..."

"No great loss there, though."

"All the same, Ronald, they were still his family. Apart from us, he's got no one left and ever since you and I got together, he probably feels like the third wheel, too."

Ron sighed. "So, what can we do to help him, love?"

"I wish I knew." She joined him on the sofa. "I suppose, at this stage, just let him know we're still here for him, if he ever wants to talk."

Ron nodded and wrapped an arm around her. "Let's hope that's soon, huh? I really hate seeing him like this."

"Hm," she murmured and rested her head against his chest. "Me, too."

 

* * *

 

"Here we are," Draco said as they walked through the door. "This is the Heads Common Room. The Head Boy quarters are behind the door on the left. You'll be staying there. The rooms on the right belong to the Head Girl."

"Who's the Head Girl?"

"Her name is Hermione Granger."

"Granger. She's in Slytherin as well?"

"Hardly." He smirked. "She's a Gryffindor and a Mud—I mean, Muggleborn to boot. She spends most of her time in Gryffindor Tower, though, with her boyfriend, so you won't see that much of her, with any luck."

Tom laughed. "So, enlighten me, Malfoy, why am I staying with you, anyway? Don't tell me they have no vacant rooms in this whole castle…"

"Security reasons," came the response. "My rooms have the strongest Wards in the building, not counting McGonagall's private chambers."

Tom grinned wryly at the mention of Minerva's name and asked, "And why exactly do you need such strong Wards, Malfoy?"

"Some people are still looking for me."

"Oh." Tom raised an eyebrow. "What sort of people?"

"Dangerous ones with malicious intentions," Draco snapped. He wasn't supposed to be talking about this and he had no intention of doing so, either, least of all with him.

Tom wasn't to be deterred, however. "Ah. So I gather this has something to do with that war everyone's been hinting at since I first arrived, the same one nobody will tell me a damned thing about when I ask?"

Draco nodded slowly.

"And I suppose the fact that I'll be staying here, behind your high security Wards, implies that I'm in danger, too?"

"Not at the moment, no." Draco hesitated. "But you might be, eventually, once they find out you're ba—I mean, when they learn that you're here at Hogwarts."

"I see. In that case, could you at least tell me who 'they' are, or what's so special about me that they'd want to harm me in the first place?" The words almost sounded like a plea. "I mean, I've scarcely arrived and already I have enemies?"

Draco ran a hand through his hair, not realising how badly his fingers were trembling. He wondered if he hadn't said too much already. This whole situation was terribly difficult, as well as horribly confusing. The boy currently standing in front of him was nothing like the monster Draco had known, the vile creature—he hesitated to call him a man—who had threatened him, tortured him, hexed him within an inch of his life; the one who, on those dark and desolate nights...

Draco shuddered and willed himself not to finish that thought. The point was that this Tom was polite and seemed friendly enough, be it fairly rattled, too, but then again, who wouldn't be at a time like this?

"Look," Draco said. He sat down on one of the antique arm chairs and gestured to his guest to do the same. "If I could tell you the truth, Riddle, I would, but I can't. I shouldn't. You're from the past and I don't want to jeopardise your chances of getting back safely." He sighed. "How about we just try to make the best of our current situation and not complicate things? With any luck, you'll be able to return to your own time soon and then we can both get on with our lives."

Tom frowned. An awkward silence filled the room, until he finally said, "Very well, Malfoy. Under one condition..."

"And what would that be?"

"The minute you find out I'm in real danger, you will let me know what I'm up against, so I can be prepared."

Draco nodded slowly. "All right. Fair enough."

"Good," Tom said and held out his hand.

Draco's eyes widened in surprise. For the briefest of moments, he was reminded of another dark haired boy with intense green eyes, one who, back in first year, had all but spat in his face at his offer of friendship.

But Draco knew very well that this wasn't Harry Potter. This was Tom Riddle, who was just as much an outcast as Draco was at the moment, and Draco supposed the two of them might as well be on good terms.

For one thing, that would make sharing a room so much easier and it would also mean he'd have someone intelligent to talk to. Barely anyone talked to him anymore, aside from Myrtle, and she didn't exactly count, did she?

Astonished grey eyes met sincere green. Draco smiled. He took the offered hand and shook it.


	4. Birds Of A Feather

A tiny, dark, dusty, suffocating room.

No fresh air. Almost impossible to breathe.

An unidentifiable, stomach-churning stench.

The creaking of a heavy door opening slowly.

_Him_ again. "You're such a pretty, _pretty_ boy, aren't you, Malfoy? But you know what we do with pretty boys around here, don't you?"

A hard slap across the face, followed by chilling laughter.

A shiver down Draco spine; the dread, the knowledge of unspeakable horrors bound to come.

Suddenly, a voice, far, far away.

_"Malfoy?"_

Getting closer...

"Malfoy?"

... and closer...

"MALFOY?!"

Draco awoke with a start, bolting upright in bed. He felt a hand on his shoulder. His eyes shot open and he saw a face mere inches from his own.

"Malfoy? Are you all right?"

"Yeah. I..." His voice was hoarse and shaky. "I think so."

Tom Riddle muttered some kind of incantation and handed Draco the glass of water he'd just conjured. "Here. This might help."

"Thanks." He took a careful sip and when he didn't notice anything odd about the taste, he took another.

"Nightmare?"

"Yeah," he said almost inaudibly, now tightly clutching the glass with both hands.

"Do you want to talk about it?" His concern seemed genuine.

Draco shook his head and almost laughed at the irony, except... this was hardly funny, was it, the way fate kept playing these cruel jokes on him?

"All right," Tom said. "It's up to you. Just so you know..." He waited a beat, before he added, "I get them, too. Not as many as I did a few years ago, but nonetheless... It happens."

"Oh?" Draco raised a puzzled eyebrow. "What do you…” he began, but soon fell silent. This was none of his business, he decided, and besides, being on amicable terms with Riddle was one thing, but he really shouldn't be discussing personal matters with a past version of the Dark Lord. That would be foolish, potentially dangerous, even.

"Well..." Tom sneered. "Let's just say there are friendlier places to grow up in than an orphanage." He carefully took the glass out of Draco's now trembling hands and placed it on the bedside table. "I'll be over there, should you change your mind," he said and then returned to his own four-poster, the one that used to be a sofa.

Draco lay back down, rolled on his side and closed his eyes. He didn't bother to shut the curtains and it suddenly struck him that Riddle's bed drapes were still open as well.

 

* * *

 

"They've put him in with Malfoy!" Harry announced, striding into the Common Room. "Can you bloody well believe it? Just what that conceited git needs, Voldemort's Second Coming for a roommate!"

"He has nowhere else to go, Harry," Hermione pointed out reasonably, “and certainly nowhere safer.”  
"THAT IS NOT MY FUCKING PROBLEM!" Harry bellowed in response.

"Come on," Ron interjected in what he hoped was a pacifying manner. “Let's get to class, yeah? You know what a nag Sprout can be when you show up late..."

"Can you believe they're even letting him take classes? Supposedly for his own safety, so he can blend in better... Like anyone gives a ruddy toss whether he lives or dies," Harry ranted on. "He'll probably stick to Malfoy like glue. THAT SCUM BELONGS IN AZKABAN! Lock them both up and throw away the key!"

"Well, Harry," Hermione said calmly, "at least Double Herbology is with Ravenclaw, so we won't have to see either Malfoy or Riddle this morning. Come on, boys. We can still get there in time if we hurry..."

She linked arms with Ron. Together, they left the Tower. Harry trailed behind them with a murderous expression on his face.

 

* * *

 

"This way, Riddle. You can have the empty seat next to mine, if you like."

Draco had been in good spirits for the past few hours. He was actually starting to enjoy Tom's company, a most unexpected but definitely not unwelcome turn of events.

"Empty seat? Someone's ill?" Tom asked conversationally.

Draco shook his head slowly, as his mood sank again. "No," he said quietly. “Theodore, my… closest friend, used to sit there. But he..." Draco swallowed the lump in his throat. "He died last summer."

"In the war?" Tom asked.

"In the war," Draco confirmed sadly.

Tom didn't ask anything further and they both sat down.

"Draco, finally," the girl across from them said with a wide smile. "We missed you in Transfiguration. Lupin told me you'd been called to McGonagall's office?"

"Yes. She wanted a word, and Riddle here was officially sorted into Slytherin for the remainder of his stay, too."

"Ah. Good for him. So..." She turned her attention to Tom. "We haven't been properly introduced yet, have we? My name's Pansy Parkinson." She held out her hand. Then she gestured towards the chubby, dark haired boy sitting next to her. "And that's Neville Longbottom, my boyfriend. He's a Gryffindor, as you can see, but most other members of that House are total wankers, so he sits with us instead."

"Hello. It's a pleasure to make both your acquaintances."

The second hand Tom shook felt surprisingly clammy and he had to wonder why his mere presence seemed to make so many people around here uncomfortable. Was this related to that war in some way? Had it turned most of the students into paranoid wrecks?

At least Draco Malfoy wasn't nervous, he thought and briefly smiled at the realisation.

Tom had been a loner for most of his life. Not by choice, initially, but solitude was something he'd fast grown accustomed to, until it had finally got to the point where he preferred his own company and tended to consider others a burden.

Something about Malfoy was different, though. Tom didn't mind having _him_ around...

"So, Pansy," Draco said, still surprised that she'd decided to speak to him today. He wondered if it was because of Riddle. Draco wasn't naïve enough to assume things had changed or would ever go back to the way they were before. "Did we miss anything interesting while we were gone?"

"Well..." She started to chat animatedly about Professor Lupin (who was so much more fun in Transfiguration than he'd been in Defence Against the Dark Arts) and about a rather regrettable but most entertaining incident with a clumsy Hufflepuff. "She's still in the infirmary, as we speak, and they're working very hard to separate her quill from her nose."

Tom shook his head and laughed. Apparently, wherever you went, Hufflepuffs would always be Hufflepuffs.

All of a sudden, he felt something prickle at the back of his neck. Was he being watched? He turned his head to see a raven haired, bespectacled boy with a large, oddly shaped scar glare at him challengingly.

_"Well, well, well, what have we here?"_ Tom thought and he glared right back.


	5. The Spoil Factor

"Slughorn's a bit much, isn't he?" Tom remarked. "Definitely hasn't improved with age; still the same small-minded, brown-nosing, pathetic little man."

"At least he's left you alone so far." Draco chuckled. "It's even worse when he wants to get on your good side, or so I've been told."

Tom let out an exaggerated sigh. "I'm probably not famous enough, don't possess the necessary connections to help promote him socially and all that rot. I suppose I'll never become anyone important, then…"

If only you knew, Draco thought, but wisely kept his mouth shut. They were only joking around anyway.

"The Parkinson girl's all right, though," Tom went on. "Friend of yours, I take it?"

"Well," came Draco's hesitant reply, "not exactly... not anymore..."

"Oh? Could have fooled me."

"Yes," Draco said bitterly. "She can fool a lot of people. It's what she does best."

Tom raised a questioning eyebrow. "So, dare I even ask what happened, or is this once again related to that war we mustn't speak of?"

"No, it's not related to the war." Draco laughed. "It's rather more personal than that."

"Ah?"

"Are you quite sure you want to know this, Riddle?"

"Would I ask, otherwise?"

"You tell me."

Tom shook his head in amusement. "Very well. Let's say my curiosity has been adequately piqued."

"All right." He took a deep breath. "Pansy and I used to be betrothed."

"To each other?" Tom smirked. "Just kidding, Malfoy. Go on, and then what happened? Let me guess: she ditched you for Longbottom?"

"No, not quite. He came later. Much later. I was the one who broke it off, actually."

"Oh. You don't like brunettes?"

"Well..." Draco coughed.

Tom grinned. "In for a Knut, in for a Sickle, Malfoy..."

"All right. If you absolutely must know," Draco mumbled. "It wasn't as much the wrong hair colour as it was... the wrong gender."

There, he thought; he'd said it. And now, he supposed, it was up to Riddle to bolt from the room, to not want to have anything further to do with him and to ask for different sleeping quarters right away, so he wouldn't run the risk of being molested in his sleep.

Draco could still remember Lucius' reaction upon first finding out. In fact, he didn't think he'd ever be able to forget it. Draco had been called just about every filthy thing under the sun that day. It had been the last time his father had ever spoken to him, too.

"Well, Malfoy," Tom said slowly, suddenly sounding a lot less sure of himself than before. "That… erm..." He gave a small, nervous laugh. It was in shrill contrast to his usual confident demeanour. "That's something you and I have in common, then."

"W-What?" Draco's jaw dropped. "You mean, you...?"

"Yes," he said quietly. "It's not the sort of thing you talk about where I come from, though. Or generally do anything about, for that matter, unless you're lucky enough to find someone who's in the same position and to whom discretion isn't a foreign concept. I assume things on that front are better around here, then?"

Draco let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. "In some circles, yes. The Muggleborns don't care, neither do the Halfbloods, usually, but the Purebloods, even now that He—I mean, even after the war, it's still regarded as a type of blood treason. Two wizards together can't produce that all-important heir, you see..."

Tom nodded in understanding.

"So, usually, the done thing is to marry a witch of good standing, make sure she gets pregnant quickly and then have a male... friend on the side. And I actually considered it for a while, you know, back when I'd just discovered what my erm... preferences are..." He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "But the more I thought about it, the more I realised I couldn't really picture myself living like that. Well, all right, myself, perhaps, just to keep Father happy, but it would also mean an innocent kid got dragged into the deception, would have to grow up with parents who felt nothing for each other... and well... I suppose, at the end of the day, I just wasn't willing to live up to my full potential as a heartless bastard." He gave a wry smile. "Anyway, I tried to explain everything to Pansy, but she..."

"She would have preferred to live a lie?" Tom finished for him.

"She was rather determined to become Lady Malfoy, yes, no matter at what cost. My family are rather... prestigious and well off, you see."

Tom smirked. "I'd gathered as much."

"And you know what they say about a woman scorned," Draco went on. "It goes double if she happens to be a Slytherin, let me assure you. So..." He opened the door. "Now we've got that cleared up..."

"Hm. One thing still eludes me, though," Tom said.

"What's that?"

"Why was she so friendly and chatty to us just now, if she thoroughly despises you?"

"Good question. Maybe she was trying to impress you?"

"Impress me? In front of her boyfriend?"

"Well, between Riddle and Longbottom, which family name would you choose if you were a Pureblood Princess on the prowl?"

"Point taken." Laughing, they walked into the Heads Common Room.

By the window, Hermione looked up from her book and frowned.

 

* * *

 

"Severus, so good of you to come," the headmistress spoke. "Please, have a seat."

"Of course." He took the chair in front of her. "How may I help you today, Minerva?"

"I was wondering…" She wrung her hands together nervously. "How's the research going? Have you already found a way to help Mister Riddle return to his own time?"

"Yes and no," Snape began cryptically. "The good news is that we would be able to send him back with the aid of a Time Portal. The bad news is that there are only two of those in existence and one of them has been confiscated by the Bulgarian Wizarding Tribunal. Apparently, a Dark Wizard had plans to take a trip to the past to assassinate some important people and overthrow the government."

"I see. And you're sure the Bulgarian authorities couldn't be persuaded to... if we were to explain the severity of the situation to them?"

"I've already tried, Minerva," he said grimly. "Their Chief Warlock informed me that a British Dark Wizard, past or present, isn't Bulgaria's concern."

"I see." Minerva sighed. "You mentioned two Time Portals. What about the other one?"

"At this point, its location is still a mystery. But perhaps, I could make a Firecall to  
Borgin and Burkes. They appear to have a special talent for acquiring magical objects of questionable origin."

Minerva nodded slowly. "Very well. Do whatever must be done."

"So," Snape, for his part, asked, "how are things going with Mister Riddle in the meantime? I've yet to hear any complaints from the Slytherins, so I assume he's settling in well?"

"From what I can tell, he seems to be getting along with young Draco. Harry Potter, however..." She shook her head sadly. "That's another matter entirely. The boy has been quite vocal in his disapproval, sometimes to the point of upsetting other students."

"Yes." Snape sneered to himself. "Rather than a mere chip, Mister Potter appears to have a full pile of firewood on his shoulder at present. Still, I'm sure Lupin will do his utmost to keep the boy under control."

"Let's hope so, Severus," the headmistress said with a sigh. "Nonetheless, I expect the following weeks will be something of a challenge to everyone."

"Indeed. Was there anything else, Minerva?"

She shook her head.

"Very well. Then I shall get on to Borgin and Burkes right away."

"Yes. Thank you, Severus."

He gave a curt nod and strode back out of the office.

 

* * *

 

"Not up in the Tower, Granger?" Draco asked conversationally. There was no venom in his words. He was in too good a mood to bother.

"No," she said and mumbled, "Impossible to study there right now."

"Oh. Let me guess..." Draco smirked. "It's Potter's time of the month?"

She rolled her eyes. "Don't be crass, Malfoy."

"What? You mean he isn't currently stomping about like a hormonal Hippogriff, shouting from the rooftops that the world is cruel, life is unfair and all Slytherins should be hung, drawn and quartered?"

"Erm…" Hermione sighed. "Yes... Well..."

Draco grinned. "Not to worry, Granger. Tom and I won't bother you. We have some revision of our own to do."

"All right..."

"Say," Tom suddenly interjected, "would either of you care to enlighten me? Who is this Potter fellow? I've already heard him mentioned quite a few times today."

"Ah yes, you two haven't been formally introduced yet, have you? Harry Potter is..." Draco paused for a moment, pondering on what he could and couldn't tell Riddle without upsetting the cosmic balance, or whatever it was that he wasn't supposed to be upsetting. "Let's just say he's a local celebrity and something of a war hero. Some even call him The Chosen One, which, in my opinion, suggests that fate is either not too picky or from time to time, enjoys getting phenomenally sloshed like the rest of us. Frankly, I wouldn't trust Potter to sit the right way on a broomstick these days, but... there we have it."

"You know, Malfoy," Hermione snapped and slammed her book closed. "Harry's been through hell these past few years. Something you know all too well, since you eagerly contributed to quite a bit of it, and furthermore..." She was glaring at him now. "Do you think it's been easy for him... ever... without any parent, and...?"

"In case you missed the memo, Granger," Draco shot back angrily. "My parents are dead, too." With that, he stormed into the Headboy quarters, throwing the door shut behind him with a loud bang.

Hermione swallowed hard. She had been harsh and tactless, she realised, and she should really learn to hold her tongue, rather than allow herself to be baited, because in one way or another, everyone had been damaged by the war, including Malfoy, no matter how much he tried to cover it up with snide remarks and arrogance.

"Right." Tom broke the loaded silence. "Revision it is, then." He gave Hermione a smirk, took his Potions textbook out of his bag and plopped himself down on the chair in front of her. "You don't mind if I join you, do you?"

She shook her head slowly. Wonderful, she thought; two conceited gits for the price of one. Malfoy was bad enough all by himself, honestly!

This time, however, she did keep her mouth shut. Enough dumb, hurtful things had already been said.


	6. Avalanche

Quietly, Tom entered the room.

Draco was standing by the window, directing his gaze outside, but not looking at anything in particular.

Tom cleared his throat to make his presence known. "All right, Malfoy?" he enquired. He usually wasn't the kind who’d bother with people. He generally considered them a pathetic waste of his time. For reasons he couldn’t explain, it was different with Draco Malfoy, though.

Draco shrugged. "I'm fine. You get used to it."

"Hm." Tom walked over to where the other boy stood and laid a hand on his shoulder. "Do you now?"

Draco slowly turned around and said in a hoarse voice, "Look, Riddle, I appreciate your concern, truly. But what's done is done; no point dwelling on it."

"You may be right," Tom said, "but my offer still stands. If ever you need to talk..."

"That wouldn't do anyone any good." Draco sounded very defensive, all of a sudden. "And you know, you probably shouldn't touch me, either."

"Oh?" Tom raised an eyebrow, but made no effort to pull his hand away. "And why is that?"

"Because you're too damned much like him." The mumbled words escaped Draco's lips before he could stop them.

"Him? Do you mean Theodore?"

Draco inhaled sharply. Tom Riddle was observant, he realised. Not that he'd expected anything different. This was the future Dark Lord he was dealing with, after all.

But although quite observant, Riddle had still guessed wrong and Draco felt very relieved about that. The real truth of the matter was entirely too painful and far too humiliating to ever see the light of day, or even to be spoken out aloud in the privacy of these heavily Warded quarters. Tom Riddle definitely didn't need to know how much his appearance reminded Draco of that other boy with raven hair and emerald eyes, the one who haunted Draco's thoughts, the one Draco longed for with every fibre of his being, even now, while the hatred between two school rivals surged more ferociously than ever.

Draco wasn't exactly proud of what his subconscious threw at him in the dead of night. It made him sick to his stomach; either he'd wake up terrified and shaking from a chilling nightmare, or his sheets would be all sticky after wild and wonderful dreams involving Harry _sodding_ Potter, of all possible people.

Draco let out a deep sigh and not for the first time that week, wondered just how fucked up all this made him.

"Malfoy?" Tom broke the awkward silence.

Draco looked up warily. "Yes?"

"Were you referring to Theodore just now?" he asked again.

Draco simply nodded. It seemed like the more sensible option.

"You'll have to move on some day, Malfoy," Tom pointed out. "I'm sure you have needs just like everyone else."

"Needs?" Draco spat out bitterly. "Frankly, I don't think I care about any of that any longer. Who knows, maybe those who claim that love makes a person weak have a very good point?"

"Love?" Tom sounded mildly amused. "Whoever said anything about love? You're rich, intelligent and attractive. You wouldn't have to look far for some company in a time where our erm... inclination is apparently accepted. Slytherins are known for their discretion, are they not?"

"Company," Draco repeated grimly. "I think I much prefer solitude over being with someone I feel no connection with, thank you."

"Really?" Tom raised a mocking eyebrow. "I'm a great believer in taking from life what I can, myself, even if what comes up isn't necessarily profound."

Draco held back the urge to sneer. Riddle was starting to grate on his nerves. True enough, if Draco were completely honest with himself, he could see the appeal of a casual fling. It might help get Potter out of his system, for one thing. But on the other hand, he really didn't want to go down that road. He didn't want to use people, not even in a mutually beneficial arrangement. It just wouldn't feel right, especially after everything that had happened with Theodore.

"So that's your philosophy is it?" he finally snapped at Tom. "Just take what you want and to hell with feelings, consequences, deeper meaning, sod it all?"

"Yes," Tom said plainly. Then he took a step closer to Draco, grabbed him by the shoulders and kissed him full on the lips.

* * *

Draco's head was spinning.

He was standing in his room, snogging Tom Riddle, and something told him that this probably shouldn't be happening. How had they even got to this point, he asked himself?

Not that he wasn't enjoying it...

Tom definitely knew what he was doing, and it had been far been too long since Draco had been touched like this, too long since anyone had made him feel so desirable.

It had been far too long since Theodore...

_Fuck. Theodore,_ Draco thought and then, instantly, his sense of realism kicked in. It reminded him of all the reasons he really shouldn't be doing this, least of all with Riddle.

Abruptly, he broke the kiss and pushed Tom away. "Stop!" he yelled and quickly stepped backwards, almost tripping over his schoolbag. "Stop! I can't!"

Tom blinked, momentarily stunned by the unexpected turn of events. One minute, Draco had been kissing him back with fervor and it had been positively delicious, but now he was suddenly backing away, looking shocked or scared or offended or...? Just what the hell was going on here?

Draco slumped down into a sitting position against the wall. He brought his knees to his chest, silently cursing himself. He was going to start crying any minute now. He just knew it. And then the tears did come and it was dreadfully embarrassing, even more so than he'd anticipated, but he just couldn't stop... _Sweet Merlin,_ why couldn't he stop?

"Malfoy?" Tom still didn't understand what was happening. Had he gone too far, perhaps? He had only intended to lighten the mood a little and fair enough, maybe have some fun in the process. After all, his roommate was undeniably gorgeous and Tom had also thought he could sense a budding mutual attraction between them.

Clearly, he'd thought wrong.

Slowly, he walked over to Draco, who was still on the floor and now sobbing uncontrollably. Tom knelt down next to him. "Hey," he said softly. "Malfoy... Draco, are you all right?"

"Yeah. I'm just brilliant." It was meant to sound cutting and sarcastic, but it got stuck on sad and bitter, instead

"Look," Tom went on, "I'm sorry if I offended you or crossed a boundary. I just felt a kind of... chemistry between the two of us, or I thought I did, but I obviously made a mistake and I... I apologise if my actions just now made you uncomfortable."

"No," Draco said quickly. "It.. it's not that."

"Oh? What is it then?"

"Look... Please... Can we just... not talk about it... forget this even happened?"

"Are you sure that's what you want, Malfoy? Bottling things up isn't healthy, or so the McGonagall from my time keeps telling everyone, anyway." He gave a small smile.

"Yes. I'm quite sure."

"As you wish," Tom said and added softly, "You know, I'd offer you a shoulder to cry on, but I'd hate to spook you again, seeing how you clearly don't want to be touched."

Draco looked up, hesitated very briefly, and then surprised them both by practically throwing himself into Tom's arms and clinging to the boy as though his very life depended on it.

Tom wasn't used to comforting someone but as far as he could tell, affection was a foreign concept to Malfoy, too. Another thing they had in common, he realized, and he held Draco close, until the tears finally stopped.

* * *

Harry pulled his cloak tightly around him and stepped out of the shadows. He waited for Ron to enter and then he sneaked in behind him, keeping as quiet as possible, so his best friend wouldn't notice his presence.

"Hermione?" Ron called out. "Are you in here, love?"

No response came.

"Hermione?" he tried again and banged on her door. "Are you ready to go down to dinner? Oi, Hermione?!"

The door at the opposite end of the room flew open, instead.

"Yes?" Tom Riddle asked with a condescending smirk, looking Ron up and down. "Care to explain why you're making such an infernal racket in the Heads Common Room... Weasley, isn't it?"

"Um, yeah. I'm Ron," he said. "Is Hermione not here?"

"No, she's gone down to the kitchens," Tom said matter-of-factly. "She went to fetch us our dinners."

Ron's jaw dropped. "She...what?!"

"Malfoy's not feeling well," Tom explained, "and Granger wanted to help. Far be it for me to stand between a Gryffindor and her Florence Nightingale tendencies. Take a seat, Weasley. She should be back soon enough."

"Er... yeah, right. Cheers." Ron plopped himself down on one of the sofas. He didn't understand what was going on and he thought that maybe he didn't want to, either.

Still standing by the entrance, Harry eyed the scene with increasing anger. Hermione was helping Malfoy?! And Ron just sat there, casually on the couch, like it was the most normal thing in the world, like he didn't even mind his girlfriend doing the fucking Ferret a favour? What the ruddy hell was going on here? Had the whole of Hogwarts gone completely bonkers?

Either way, Harry had seen enough. More than enough. He clenched his fists in frustration, gritted his teeth and slowly backed out of the room again, careful not to make a sound when he closed the door.


	7. Hell To Pay

"Harry…" Hermione began carefully. She wasn't at all happy with what she'd just been accused of. Honestly, as if she'd ever cheat on Ron, and with Draco Malfoy, no less, who was hardly her type and didn't even like girls to begin with. She didn't think it would do any good to yell at her best friend, however. He'd only become more unreasonable—provided such a thing were still possible at this point. So it was in a calm, collected tone of voice that she asked him, "Why are you still so angry at Malfoy anyway, Harry? You know very well that he didn't kill Dumbledore; you were there. You also know he had no choice, that they'd threatened his mum and…"

"That's not the bloody point!" he snapped, rudely cutting her off.

"All right. Then please tell me what is. I'm your friend, Harry, and I'd really like to read what's going through your mind right now. I mean, I understand why you might feel sad and frustrated about the people you couldn't save. I empathise with your fury at the Death Eaters the Wizengamot had to let go because there supposedly wasn't enough evidence to keep them locked up. All of that, I can understand perfectly, but as far as Draco's concerned…"

"Oh, it's Draco all of a sudden, is it?!"

Hermione decided to ignore that. "You should have seen him last night," she went on. "He really wasn't well. And he looks even thinner now than he did last year. He picks at his food like a bird. Haven't you noticed, Harry? It's quite disconcerting."

Harry let out an exasperated sigh. "Please don't tell me you're actually buying into his crap. I felt sorry for him too, you know, last year when Snape took him away, and even a little before that. I thought he was innocent. I was practically convinced he'd been forced into it by his father." He shook his head angrily. "But they found him in Voldemort's lair, Hermione, and he wouldn't tell any of the Aurors what had happened—not a word. He just struck a deal with the authorities in the end. He conveniently handed them Bellatrix on a platter and in exchange, they let him off scot-free, no questions asked."

"Yes, I know, but..."

"Oh, please! Even now, he refuses to talk about last summer. Would someone innocent behave that way?"

"Maybe," she muttered, mostly to herself, "if they were ashamed."

Harry frowned. "Ashamed of what, exactly?"

She took a deep breath. She didn't have the answer to that question, not yet. But she was starting to suspect terrible things had been done to Draco Malfoy, things he hated himself for, things he didn't want the world to know about...

"I don't know," she finally said.

"Right. There you go. Don't be taken in by him, Hermione. I almost was; I actually considered helping him last year, but I'm glad I didn't. It wouldn't have been worth the effort. At the end of the day, he's still a cunning, cold-hearted snake."

Hermione frowned, but she decided to let the matter rest; at least for now, until she had gathered all the facts.

 

* * *

 

Tom shook his head. It was already the middle of the afternoon and Malfoy was still in bed; he hadn't said two words since this morning and he seemed just as distressed as last night, if not even more so.

"I'm going to have a word with Snape," Tom announced. "Will you be all right by yourself? Can I trust you not to do anything stupid?"

"Yes," Draco said softly and pulled the covers more tightly around him. "Yes, of course."

Determinedly, Tom made his way down to the dungeons, nodding at a few Slytherins along the way. He was relieved when most of them nodded back.

He took a deep breath and knocked at the office door.

"Yes?" Snape called out.

Tom straightened his shoulders and went in.

Snape looked up from the papers he was grading. "Ah, Mister Riddle."

"Sorry to just show up out of the blue, Sir," he said politely, "but I was wondering if I might have a word?"

"If you must. And do take a seat."

"Thank you, Sir." Tom sat down on the chair in front of him. "It concerns Draco Malfoy. Forgive my bluntness, but what happened to him, exactly?"

Snape raised a quizzical eyebrow. "Pardon me?"

"Well. Surely, you've noticed, Sir? He's skittish, rarely eats, and sometimes even refuses to speak. Did something bad happen to him during the war?"

"Bad things happen to everyone during the course of a war," Snape stated sardonically. "That's partly the point."

Tom smirked. "In other words, no one around here plans to tell me a damned thing, do they... Sir?"

"It wouldn't be wise to provide you with foresight into what's still the future where you come from, Mister Riddle. I assume you possess the intelligence to grasp the reasoning behind this..."

"I'm not looking for answers about my future," Tom pointed out. "I'm merely hoping to find a way to help Draco Malfoy, Sir."

Snape smirked. "How very humanitarian of you, Mister Riddle. However, I don't think it would be wise to strike up a…." He gave Tom a meaningful look "...friendship with any of the other students. Such a thing would only lead to tears when you are sent back to your own time which, with any luck, should be happening soon."

Tom blinked. "How soon?" he couldn't help but ask.

"Three weeks from now, according to my contact. So don't start feeling too much at home, Mister Riddle. And I would also appreciate…" The sarcasm had left his voice now. "… if you would refrain from giving Mister Malfoy any false hope. He's had a little too much of that in recent years."

Tom frowned. He wished he knew what the man was referring to and he suddenly regretted not being more skilled at Legilimency.

 

* * *

 

A little unsteady on his feet, Draco headed down the stairs. He was on his way to the gardens. He'd been up in his room all day and thought he could do with a bit of fresh air.

Times like this, he missed his mother terribly. She would always make him feel better, no matter how hopeless things looked. Another reason why he couldn't understand why she had done what she did. Certainly, after her sacrifice, he'd made it through the war safely, more or less, but maybe he'd have been much better off just taking his chances as a Death Eater. Maybe then he'd wouldn't have lost her.

"All alone, Malfoy?" a mocking voice cut through his thoughts, as though out of nowhere. "Your new friend left you already, has he? And where are Goyle and Crabbe, I wonder? Ah yes, that's right. One's shagging a Ravenclaw and the other must be half-eaten by worms by now; luckily for them, there's quite a bit of him to go around... Such a shame for you, though. There's no one left to protect the precious Malfoy Heir."

Draco turned around slowly to face the speaker.

Harry Potter had his arms crossed and wore a murderous expression.

"That Ravenclaw used to be your friend," Draco pointed out. He was determined not to let this boy get the better of him.

"True enough, unfortunately," Harry said with a sneer. "Of course that was before she started spreading her legs for Slytherins…"

Draco shook his head in bewilderment. "I have no idea what happened to you, Potter," he retorted with as much venom as he could still muster, "and I can't say I'm terribly inclined to care, either, but I'm starting to think you'd be better off checking yourself into St. Mungo's. And then perhaps, if they ever let you out again, you and I can resume this conversation in a more civilised manner..."

Draco turned to leave, but Harry grabbed his arm. "You never used to be such a coward, Malfoy, to simply walk away from a fight. You used to have so much more nerve than this. What happened? Your pride died along with Daddy Dearest, did it?"

Draco swallowed hard. Why, he wondered, hadn't he taken Tonks' advice and gone to Durmstrang this year, or opted for private tutoring? Why had he insisted on returning to Hogwarts, albeit only for appearances' sake? If only his pride had died with Lucius, he thought bitterly, then maybe he wouldn't be in this position right now, about to get hexed into another dimension by someone who had probably dreamed of this opportunity for years.

Draco found he lacked the strength to fight back. He was fast running out of cutting remarks, too. But perhaps, he reasoned, it wouldn't be so bad for all this to finally be over: no more nightmares, no more paralysing guilt, no more pointless pining after the very person who loathed him the most.

No more. No more. No more.

"Do your worst, Potter," Draco finally said. "What'll it be? A nice dose of Cruciatus, perhaps, or another round of Sectumsempra? I'm all yours."

"Or I could just beat the crap out of you," Harry suggested flatly.

Draco braced himself and said nothing. Then he heard an incantation. He didn't catch which one it was, but he instantly found himself on the floor, unable to move. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words would come.

Slowly, menacingly, Harry moved closer. "All mine, huh, Malfoy?" He sneered. "Now there's an interesting idea..."

Draco swallowed hard.

"Just a shame, isn't it…" Harry delivered the boy on the floor a hard kick to the ribs. "… that I'd rather be buggered senseless by a rabid Hippogriff than touch you like that?"

Draco felt the tears prickle in his eyes. He couldn't decide what hurt the most, the sudden onslaught of physical pain or the emotional impact of those harsh words.

"And don't look so surprised, Malfoy," Harry added mockingly. "Everyone knows how much of a pouf you are. Probably took it up the arse from Voldemort too, didn't you? That was why you had such a pretty, private room upstairs, wasn't it? You were his little toy boy."

Draco felt the bile rise in his throat. Potter couldn't possibly know, he reminded himself, and it wasn't as if he'd let it happen willingly, either. Draco gritted his teeth and silently begged any deity that might have been listening: "Please, let him finish me off this time, and if it all possible, make it quick."

Harry raised his leg again, ready to deliver another blow, but he was suddenly interrupted by a loud voice in the corridor. "What in the seven hells of Hades do you think you're doing, Scarboy?"

Harry spun around, startled, and found himself standing face to face with a furious Tom Riddle.

"Release Malfoy this instant!" Tom said—no, commanded.

"You're in no position to give me orders, Riddle," Harry shot back. "Nor will you ever be."

"Is that so?" Tom mockingly looked his opponent up and down. "Fine. Have it your way, then."

The next thing Harry knew, he was magically flung across the room, until he finally landed against the wall, banging his head hard in the process.

Riddle gave a satisfied smirk. Taking slow, confident steps, he sauntered over.

Despite the throbbing pain at the back of his skull, Harry quickly reached for his wand, ready to cast the first curse, anyone that might come to mind.

Tom shook his head in amusement. "I think not, Scarboy." He snapped his fingers and effortlessly, Harry's wand flew into his hand. "A little out of your league, aren't you? Ever heard of the expression choose your battles wisely?"

Harry gulped. Riddle wasn't supposed to be this powerful. How was this even possible?

"So," Tom went on, "I repeat: Release Malfoy. Or do I actually have to kill you in order to break your spell?" He twirled Harry's wand between his fingers. "You'd only have to say..."

"Finite Incantatem," Harry croaked out, and the spell worked, even wandlessly.

"Are you all right over there, Malfoy?" Tom asked over his shoulder.

"Yeah," came the strained response. "I-I think so."

Draco stood up quietly, afraid to look at Harry, afraid to look anywhere but at the floor, lest he fell to pieces, there and then.

"Good."

Tom turned his attention back to Harry. He took another step closer to him, roughly pulled him up by the shoulders and forcefully shoved him against the wall.

"Just so you won't forget," Tom hissed and then he slapped Harry hard across the face, leaving a red imprint of his hand on Harry's cheek and sending Harry's glasses flying to the floor where they instantly shattered.

"Don't ever mess with my friend again," Tom spat viciously, before he finally let go and turned around.

He made a point of ignoring the sobbing, whimpering pile on the floor behind him, while he carefully led a shaking Draco back to their room.


	8. Aftermath

"Good heavens!" Hermione exclaimed from her spot by the window as she caught sight of the duo that half-walked, half-stumbled into the Common Room. She quickly leapt up from her seat and rushed towards them. "What on earth happened? Are you two all right?"

"We had a little run-in with your friend Potter," Tom said grimly.

Frowning, Hermione addressed Draco. "You and Harry have been fighting again?! Oh, honestly!"

Still not trusting his voice, Draco shook his head in response.

"Not quite, Granger. Scarboy attacked him," Tom supplied. "First with words, then with magic, and then he proceeded to kick the living daylights out of him. Merlin only knows what else he would have done, if I hadn't shown up."

Draco flinched, unwilling to even consider the possibilities.

"What?" Hermione's eyes widened. "Are you saying Harry attacked Draco? Just like that?"

"So it would appear," Tom snapped. "Now, do you plan to stand there all night, asking pointless questions, Granger, or are you actually going to make yourself useful?"

"Er ... Yes…. Right," she said, slightly taken aback. "We should probably help Draco to bed, so he can get some rest. Are you quite sure you're okay, Malfoy? Can I get you anything? Do you need to see the nurse?"

Tom rolled his eyes. "Don't fuss over him like a mother hen, either, Granger," he added sharply. "Salazar-on-a-stick...women!"

Draco began to chuckle at that, but had to stop since the shaking of his chest hurt his ribs too much.

Together, Tom and Hermione helped him into bed.

"Comfortable?" Tom asked.

Draco nodded.

"Right then. Granger," Tom went on, "if you wouldn't mind... a word, please?"

"Yes. Yes, of course. Yell if you need anything, Draco." She quickly followed Tom out of the room.

Once they were gone, Draco let out a deep breath and finally allowed his tears to flow freely.

 

* * *

 

"Bloody hell, mate! You look like you've been mauled by a Hippogriff! And what happened to your glasses?"

Harry took a deep breath. He'd considered lying about the incident. In fact, on his way back, he had managed to think up a plausible story to explain his present state, but finally standing face to face with a very worried Ron, he couldn't bring himself to tell anything but the truth. "I fought with Malfoy," he admitted quietly, inwardly cursing his honest Gryffindor self.

"Oh bugger." Ron shook his head angrily. "And to think he'd been behaving himself so well his year. I suppose we should have known that was just the calm before the storm. So, what exactly did that Ferret do to you this time?"

"Well, um… It wasn't just him, Ron."

This earned Harry a confused look. "What? How do you mean? He's gone and got himself some new cronies or something?"

"No. Nothing like that. What I mean is, I..."

Harry took a deep breath and reluctantly began to explain how he'd bumped into Malfoy earlier and how angry it had made him to see once again that the double-crossing bastard was still walking around freely, like so many others of his kind, simply because they'd struck a deal or some important evidence had conveniently disappeared, while at the same time, good, innocent people were still fighting for their lives at St Mungo's or even worse, were now doomed to roam the earth as Dark Creatures.

"Just seeing that smug face of his and hearing that posh, stuck-up way he talks," Harry finished in a shaky voice. "I completely lost it back there, Ron. Every time I see him, it's just... Why is he even here anyway? Why did they allow him to come back? "

"What?!" Ron blinked. "Am I understanding this right, Harry? Are you telling me it was you who attacked him, and not the other way around?"

"Yeah." Harry looked down at the floor.

"So, he, in turn, beat the crap out of you?"

"Er, no." Harry took another deep breath. "That was Riddle."

"Riddle." Ron's head was reeling. "So... Let me get this straight... You started a fight with Malfoy and then Riddle, the future Voldemort, rescued him? So the two of them are all chummy now?"

Harry nodded. "Looks that way."

"Bloody hell," Ron muttered under his breath and then added carefully, "Er... look, Harry, I know you've been having a rough time of it lately, and I don't blame you one bit, mate, the war sure put you through a lot more crap than it did most of us, but maybe..." He cleared his throat. "I mean, don't take this the wrong way or anything, but don't you think you're going just a little too far, mate, and that things are getting out of control? You remember what happened last year, don't you? That Sectu—that curse you used? I mean… I'm just saying, you could get yourself into some serious trouble this way, you know, war hero or not..."

Harry narrowed his eyes and Ron braced himself for the inevitable, which was bound to be vastly unpleasant and probably pretty loud, too.

Instead, Harry let out a deep sigh. "I..." he began. "I don't know what..."

"Go on," Ron said.

"I don't know what comes over me, sometimes. I don't..." He clenched his fists and let out a deep sigh. "Fuck. I just don't know."

Ron shook his head sadly and laid a supportive hand on Harry's shoulder. He had no idea what had happened to his best friend, nor did he have a clue how to help him.

He decided to have a long chat with Hermione, as soon as she got back. She'd know what to do. She always did.

 

* * *

 

"Yes, enter," Minerva McGonagall spoke and put down her book.

"Sorry to come and see you without an appointment, headmistress," Tom began, as he entered the office.

"Not a problem, Mister Ridde," she said with a smile. "My door is always open to students who need to talk, and as long as you are our responsibility, that definitely includes you."

"Thank you, Professor."

"Now, how may I help you? And please, do sit down…"

"Right. Thank you. This concerns Draco Malfoy. He was attacked earlier, quite out of the blue and as far as I know, without any prior provocation on his behalf."

McGonagall's eyes widened "Attacked? Oh dear. By whom? And how is Mister Malfoy doing now?"

"He's in his room, resting, Professor. I offered to take him to the Hospital Wing—I believe he has some bruised ribs—but he refused. He told me he wouldn't be able to sleep there." Tom paused meaningfully, hoping the headmistress would supply him with some clarification on that statement, but when she remained silent, he went on, "And as for who attacked him without good reason, that would be Harry Potter, Professor."

"Oh my goodness!"

"Luckily, I was able to intervene," Tom stated. "Which reminds me..." He pulled a wand from his robes and placed it on the headmistress' desk. "Potter might want that back, provided - and I'll leave that to your discretion—he can be trusted to use it."

"Thank you for bringing this to my attention, Mister Riddle," McGonagall said after a few tense moments. "We'll take it from here."

"Yes, of course."

Once Tom had left the room, Minerva swallowed hard and once again, found herself wishing that Albus were still around. Then she decided that an urgent staff meeting was definitely in order. If someone didn't do something very soon, she reasoned, things were bound to get terribly out of hand, provided they hadn't already.

 

* * *

 

"I don't need your pity, Granger," he said, crossing his arms defensively.

"Good," she shot back, placing the tray with soup and bread rolls on the bedside table, "because you won't get it, either."

He raised a quizzical eyebrow.

"I'm Head Girl," she went on, "so I'm partly responsible for the students' welfare. Like it or not, that includes yours, Malfoy. So if it makes you feel any better, if it's less wounding to your pride, you can look at this as me simply doing my duty like the goody-two-shoes Gryffindor you always say I am."

Draco opened his mouth to say something. He had a brilliant retort to this, didn't he? No, he realised, apparently, he did not. And it suddenly dawned on him, too, that the girl actually had a good point. Not only that, she seemed to know him better than he'd originally thought.

He looked up at her and when he saw the triumphant smirk on her face, he couldn't hold back a chuckle. "You're pretty clever, aren't you, Granger?"

"Well spotted." She laughed. "And it only took you seven years to figure it out, Malfoy."

Draco shook his head and before he knew it, he was laughing too and wondering if, perhaps, he should reevaluate his opinion about Hermione Granger.


	9. The Trouble With Harry

Taking care to make as little noise as possible, Tom headed back into the room. When he noticed that Draco was still awake, he walked over to the boy’s bed. "Feeling better?" he asked softly.

"A bit," Draco answered in a small voice. “It-It’s not too bad, really.”

Tom wasn't terribly convinced, but he decided not to press the issue; regardless of talk to the contrary, Draco didn't seem the type who'd appreciate being fussed over. "I spoke with McGonagall," he said instead, quickly changing the subject.

"Oh. And...?"

"She promised me they'd deal with it."

"Right." Draco rolled his eyes. "Forgive me if I don't jump up for joy, won't you?"

Tom frowned. "Why the cynicism?"

Draco took a deep breath. "Well, how shall I put this? Harry Potter is the Hogwarts Golden Boy, Tom. He doesn't have to play by the rules. They'd probably let him get away with murder, even. Haven't you noticed? Last year, he cast a Dark Curse on me. Aside from Severus, no one as much as batted an eye."

"_Did_ he, now? Well, the little bastard won't get off so lightly this time," Tom said with a self-satisfied sneer. "Trust me."

Draco gave a small smile when he realised he actually did.

"Now," Tom added, "get some rest. You'll need it if you want to heal properly."

"Yeah. Thanks for…. everything. Good night."

Tom smiled. He gently ran his fingers through Draco's hair. "Good night," he whispered, and walked over to his side of the room to get changed.

Draco took a deep breath and looked up at the ceiling. He couldn't deny his increasing attraction to his roommate, and it was no longer because of certain physical aspects or the way the boy reminded him of the person he'd had a pointless crush on for so many years, either. Draco _liked_ Tom Riddle, and as far as he could tell, that feeling was mutual. And although he was well aware that this insight should worry or even scare him, it didn't, not in the slightest.

Draco took another deep, bracing breath and made up his mind. "Tom?" he called out.

"Yes?"

"Would you.... erm?"

Tom, now dressed in a pair of green pyjamas, turned around and went back to the other side of the room. "Would I what, Draco? Is something wrong?"

"Sleep with me?" he asked, suddenly feeling awkward and out of his depth.

Tom frowned and crossed his arms. "Are we talking _sleep_ sleep here?" he asked, sounding rather defensive. "Or is this your way of propositioning me? And if it's the latter, are you sure that would be a good idea, given your current state?"

Draco cleared his throat. Then he realised he was blushing. Something Malfoys didn't normally do, or so he'd been told long ago by someone whose opinion no longer mattered today. "Just sleeping," he answered uncertainly. "That is, if you want to. I don't..."

Tom smiled. "I think that might be nice, actually." He sat down on the bed and reached out his right hand to stroke Draco's cheek. "Is this all right?" he asked softly.

"Yes. It's... very nice."

They stayed that way for a while, quietly looking at each other, Tom caressing Draco's face.

"You know," Tom said, finally breaking the silence, "I've felt drawn to you from the moment I first saw you, though I don't really know why, and I..." He grinned. "I'm becoming quite fond of you, if you must know."

Draco gave a small smile. "Same here," he admitted softly, "of you, I mean."

"Can I kiss you?"

"I think... Yeah, I'd like that."

Tom leaned down. When their lips met, it was careful and gentle at first and this time, it was Draco who deepened the kiss, pulling Tom closer.

"So," Tom said when they broke apart again, both of them flushed and grinning rather goofily, "I take it you enjoyed that?"

"Hm," Draco murmured, the pain in his sides temporarily forgotten.

"There's more if you want it."

Draco chuckled. "I wouldn't say no to that."

"Just..." Tom hesitated. "When you get uncomfortable with something, tell me? Straight away? Before you get upset?"

Draco nodded. "All right."

"Good." Tom leaned down and kissed him again, very tenderly, the gesture more affectionate and reassuring than heated or urgent.

_Funny,_ Draco thought, _how he seems to know exactly what I need right now._ "Join me?" he suggested.

"All right." Tom climbed into bed and wrapped his arms around the other boy.

Draco winced. "Fuck!"

"What?"

"Ribs."

"Right. Let's try this differently, then." Tom rolled onto his back and held out his arms. "Come here."

Smiling, Draco moved into the embrace and rested his head against Tom's chest. "Much better," he whispered. "Good night, Tom."

"Good night."

Stroking Draco's hair, Tom lay awake for a long time, thinking about this strange world he had landed himself in. He also wondered whether it would be possible for him to stay. He had nothing to go back to anyway, and Draco obviously needed him. Moreover, he was beginning to think that maybe he needed Draco too.

* * *

For the past hour, Harry had been sitting in the Gryffindor Common Room, in a chair by the window, gazing up at the stars.

Ron was seated nearby. He'd tried, numerous times, to engage his friend in conversation, but to no avail. Harry seemed miles away.

With each passing day, Ron was becoming more and more worried. Between the aggressive outbursts, the odd silences and the bouts of crying, his best friend clearly wasn't doing too well.

Hermione had suggested a talk with Professor Lupin. And although Ron had been apprehensive at first, knowing how much Harry loathed teacher interference, he was starting to think that they no longer had all that much choice in the matter. Things with Harry were going downhill fast, and something needed to be done.

* * *

The following morning, an hour before classes, the impromptu staff meeting took place.

When the teachers learned about the previous day's violent incident, most of them were baffled; all with the exception of one.

"From the way Mister Potter has been acting lately," Snape said with a smirk, "I'm amazed the castle's still standing. At least his wand has been confiscated, I see. One can only hope this will limit any further damage."

Minerva cleared her throat. "Actually, it was Tom Riddle who took that from him."

"_Did_ he, now?" Snape sneered. "How amusing. So I assume Mister Potter, as well as attacking a fellow student, has also managed to make an enemy out of ... _Him_? Wonderful. Precisely what this school needed."

"It seems," Minerva said carefully, "that Tom has become pretty good friends with Draco. So when Harry attacked young Malfoy, Tom jumped to his defense and..." She trailed off.

Snape nodded gravely. "Right," he said after a long, unpleasant silence. “Perhaps it would be worth considering some... alternate means of tuition for Mister Potter?"

"Are you honestly suggesting we _expell_ the boy?" Slughorn asked, clearly horrified at the notion. "But... but... we _can't_... he's... he's... Harry Potter!"

"We are all painfully aware of that, Horace," Snape shot back. "However, he is also becoming something of a liability to this school and everyone in it."

Minerva turned to the Head of Gryffindor House. "Remus, what are your thoughts on all this?"

"Er, well," the man replied, obviously still thinking things over, "it looks like the war hasn't ended yet for Harry. It still rages on in his heart. Before we resort to something as drastic as kicking the poor boy out of the first real home he's ever known, though, perhaps we could try some talking sessions, as well as an assessment from an expert healer at St. Mungo's? I believe that first and foremost, Harry needs help, not more punishment."

Snape couldn't help but roll his eyes at that, while Minerva gave Remus a grateful smile. "Severus?" she then said. Her voice was almost pleading.

Snape gritted his teeth. "Oh, very well," he finally said, and added darkly, "But if this backfires, Lupin, on your head be it."


	10. Wicked Ways

Draco woke up, feeling more rested than he'd felt in a very long time. He was also immensely relieved to discover that he was no longer in any kind of pain. Very fortunate indeed, he decided, that Granger was so clever—and rather good at getting her hands on all kinds of potions too, apparently.

He opened his eyes. Next to him, very close to him in fact, Tom was still fast asleep.

Draco glanced at the clock. They had a good ninety minutes left before the start of their first class. He bit his lip. He really didn't want to rush into things with Tom, physically, but on the other hand, the attraction he felt towards him was impossible to ignore. Draco reached out and traced his fingers along Tom's face.

Tom opened his eyes and smiled. "How are you feeling?" he asked in a whisper.

"Much better."

"Good to hear that." Tom grabbed Draco's right hand and gently kissed its knuckles, one by one. "Then I imagine you won't object to what I'm about to do?"

Draco raised a quizzical eyebrow. "And what would that be?"

Tom gave an almost predatory grin and then, in one swift move, pulled Draco on top of him. "This."

Draco laughed softly. "No. Not at all." He shifted a little to demonstrate just how much he didn't object, only stopping when his morning erection was perfectly aligned with Tom's. "Want to try something out?" he suggested mischievously.

Tom slid his hands lower and cupped Draco's behind. "Oh, yes. I've been wanting to try things out with you for _quite_ a while now."

Draco gave a wicked chuckle. He started to rotate his hips, causing delicious friction that made both him and Tom moan. "Have you ever done this before?" he asked.

"Not with someone as special as you," Tom said breathlessly as he started to thrust back and forth. “Or for that matter, with anybody quite as gorgeous."

"Same here," Draco admitted in a whisper and started to grind down harder. "Oh _fuck!_"

Tom lifted one hand and gently pulled Draco's head down, capturing his lips in an eager, heated kiss. "Hm," he murmured huskily, "even first thing in the morning, you taste sweet."

They picked up the pace and soon, they were rutting against each other frantically, thankful for the Wards around their room and the Muffling Charm that was always in place, in case a bad nightmare had Draco screaming. The bed creaked loudly beneath them as they feverishly rubbed their clothed cocks against each other and in between deep, lingering kisses, moaned into one another's mouths.

"Tom." Draco gasped for air. "Fair warning... I... I'm not going to last much longer if we don't.... I'm going to... any second now... _Oh fuck_!... "

"Let go, Draco. I'm certainly”—he groaned—”not going to hold back either... Hmmm, yes... Fuck, you feel so damned good..."

Draco opened his eyes, just in time to see Tom throw his head back, his face contorting in pleasure. Then Draco felt it, a wetness that wasn't his own, seeping through the front of his pyjama pants. Draco shivered. "You're bloody incredible, Tom," he whispered. One more hard thrust was all it took. Draco came hard, grunting out Tom's name before finally collapsing on top of him.

When Draco had recovered enough to open his eyes again, Tom was grinning up at him. "All right there, Malfoy?"

"Absolutely perfect," he answered with a soft chuckle. "You?"

"Likewise. Next time, however, I suggest we try this with a little less clothes, or preferably, with none at all."

Draco couldn't keep the huge, goofy grin from spreading across his face. "That sounds like a plan."

"Anyway, I suppose we'd best get cleaned up and head to class. Assuming you can still move, that is."

"Yeah, Riddle." Draco laughed. "I can still move. Just one thing, though..."

"What?"

He gently kissed Tom on the lips. "Thank you."

"What on earth for?"

Draco shrugged. "Being here?"

"Well, I could say the same thing to you, then." He kissed Draco’s nose and climbed out of bed. "Come on. Shower."  
Draco nodded and smiling in a way he hadn't smiled in a long time, he followed Tom into the bathroom.

* * *

"Please, sit down," Lupin urged in a gentle tone.

Harry did as he was asked, albeit reluctantly.

"It has come to our attention," Lupin continued, "that you were part of a regrettable violent incident that also involved Draco Malfoy and Tom Riddle."

Harry gritted his teeth and braced himself.

"Now, as you know, Harry, I've always stood by you, and I still believe, from the bottom of my heart, that you don't mean to do anyone any harm. _However,_ when a member of my House physically or otherwise attacks a fellow student, without even the slightest hint of provocation on the other person's behalf, no less... I'm afraid that's not the kind of thing I can just turn a blind eye to."

Harry swallowed hard.

"Mister Riddle turned in your wand yesterday. It will remain in my possession for the time being, and such until the headmistress and myself think it wise to give it back to you. In addition, the staff has also decided unanimously—and no, I'm afraid this is not negotiable, Harry—that if you intend to remain at this school, you will be required to get yourself evaluated by an expert healer from St. Mungo's. She will be coming over tomorrow. If she deems it necessary, you will be prescribed a Calming Potion and will also partake in weekly talking sessions with her."

"What the hell am I supposed to talk to some stranger about?" Harry shot back defensively. "And what the fuck would that even solve?"

"Now, Harry," Remus said, making a point of keeping his tone even, "there's no need for that kind of language. If she decides that _counselling_ is in order, you will talk to her about whatever she wishes to discuss with you."

"But..."

"No _but_s, Harry. I'm afraid you either agree to accept the help we're offering you or..." Remus took a deep breath. He didn't like being in this position, not in the least. "Or enroll at another school," he finished sadly.

Harry's eyes widened. "They're actually thinking about expelling me? ME?! After everything I…."

Remus nodded slowly. "I'm afraid so, Harry. I fear we don't have much choice if you're endangering the other students and possibly yourself."

Harry slumped back in his chair, inwardly cursing Malfoy, Riddle and finally his own temper for getting him into this situation. "Fine," he said at last, when a very tense ten minutes had gone by. "Fine. I'll talk to her."

* * *

"Right," Professor Slughorn spoke. "Miss Granger, if you would please pair up with Mister Malfoy and perhaps, Mister Weasley and Mister Riddle can work together also? Yes, thank you. Splendid! Splendid!"

"Feeling better, Draco?" Hermione whispered, while the teacher continued to divide the studens into groups of two. "I missed you at breakfast this morning."

"Missed me, no less," he retorted with a grin. "Careful. Weasley wouldn't be happy to hear that!"

Hermione just rolled her eyes in response.

"Anyway, yes, I'm feeling much better, thank you. Tom took extremely good care care of me."

Hermione raised an amused eyebrow. Something in Draco’s tone, not to mention the smug smirk on his face, told her that she didn't particularly want to know the details. At least Draco seemed to be in a good mood for once; she could only hope it would last.

"Sorry," Ron muttered at one of the other desks, as he picked up the vial he'd just dropped. "I'm not too brilliant at this."

"Well," Tom suggested helpfully, "how about, I tell you what to chop up and I do the adding and stirring myself?"

"Maybe that's not such a bad idea," Ron admitted sheepishly.

"Right, then."

Ron watched out of the corner of his eye how Tom diligently set to work. This Riddle didn’t seem too bad, really; he was helpful and polite, and didn’t start any trouble. Ron wondered what had gone wrong in the past that had turned him into the ruthless, cold-hearted bastard who’d eventually become Voldemort.

Draco, Hermione, Tom and Ron ended the lesson with two perfect potions and extra points awarded to both Gryffindor and Slytherin.

Just as they left the classroom, Harry came stomping down the corridor.  
"Class has just finished, I'm afraid," Hermione told him.

"Yes, well, seeing how _someone_ decided to have a word with McGonagall about me, I’m afraid I was forced to miss Potions this morning," Harry snapped, glaring daggers at Draco and Tom.

"You attacked a fellow student, Potter," Tom pointed out with a sneer, "the Head Boy, no less. Did you honestly believe we were going to let that slide? And now that we're on the subject of your appalling attitude: from what I've seen, you've been treating people left and right like utter crap. Maybe your friends feel they have to put up with it, out of some misguided sense of loyalty, but I'll promise you here and now, _Potter_, you touch my boyfriend again—in fact, you as much as speak to him in a way he doesn’t like, and I'll hex you so badly your forefathers' bones will rattle in the aftermath; am I making myself clear?"

Harry all but dropped his books. "Your-Your boyfr-... _what?_"

"That's right, Potter," Draco drawled, "so if you were planning on shouting from the Astronomy Tower that Draco Malfoy's a flaming queer, oops... looks like someone just took the edge off the announcement. An opportunity tragically missed, wouldn't you say?"

With that, he grabbed Tom by the arm. Together, they strode out of the corridor and to the next lesson.

"Draco's getting back to his old self, I see," Greg remarked, unable to stop the smile that was tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Luna nodded. "You should really talk to him, darling. You miss him, don't you?"

"I suppose so," he admitted quietly.

"You know, my father always says that when fate closes a door, it also opens some windows and then it's up to us not to jump through them all at once."

Greg frowned. Most of the time, the things his girlfriend said puzzled him. Nonetheless, he supposed she had a point, kind of, in this case. He should talk to Draco. He missed him. After all, they'd been friends all their lives, until the war and all its horrors had ripped them apart. And then when Vince had been killed...

Greg took a deep breath and decided that it was about time he and Draco made amends, salvaged what could still be salvaged, and got on with the rest of their lives.


	11. Animal I've Become

"What's next?" Tom asked.

"Care of Magical Creatures," Draco responded without the slightest hint of enthusiasm.

Tom frowned. "You actually signed up for that?"

Draco shrugged. "It beats just sitting around thinking."

"Fair enough." They walked past a bathroom. "Hang on a sec, would you?" Tom said. "My hands still feel a little sticky, courtesy of Weasley's clumsiness in Potions."

"What did he spill this time?"

"Pine sap."

Draco made a face.

"My sentiments exactly." Tom opened the door. "I'll be right back."

He entered the bathroom. The two toilet stalls had an ‘out of order’ notice pinned to their door, but Tom was only there to wash his hands, so that didn't matter. With the tap running, he grabbed the soap and almost dropped it in the grimy sink as a piercing shriek rang through the room.

Startled, Tom turned around. He came face to face with a floating, almost transparent girl with thick glasses. "Myrtle? Is that you?" he asked incredulously. "And…. you’re a _ghost_?"

"Yes," she said, crossing her arms and glaring at him, "it's me, Tom, and of course I'm a _ghost_! Nice one, you ... you... _murderer_!"

She let out another chilling shriek.

Tom's eyes widened. "Murderer? What the hell are you talking about? I didn't kill anyone."

"Oh really?" She huffed.

"Yes. Really." He turned off the tap and quickly dried his hands with the provided towel. It looked a little ratty, but at least it was clean. "I only arrived here a few days ago," he clarified, "and everyone I've encountered thus far is still alive. Well, present company notwithstanding, it seems."

She regarded him suspiciously. "Then you're a _different_ Tom? Is that what you're trying to tell me? I have to say, you do look slightly too young and dashing to be the same one, after so many years."

"How do you mean _different_?" he enquired. "I come from the past, if that's your point."

"The past. Hm." She floated circles around him in a way he found more than a little irritating. "Which year are you in?"

"Seventh here."

"So you're seventeen?"

He shook his head. "No. Technically, I'm fifteen. Sixteen in December."

"Ah, that would make you a fourth year back in the past. Hmmm.... Interesting."

"Almost a fifth year, actually. And I'll be a _prefect_ too, if you must know," he stated proudly. “It’s all been arranged already.”

"Yes, of course. You _would_ be a prefect. So it's summer where you come from? Holidays?"

He rolled his eyes, getting rather bored with the conversation. "I was dragged here or Apparated or whatever I was, on my last day of school."

"Oh. So, you haven't um... been to see your family yet, then?"

"My _family_?" He didn’t realise, but instantly he was shouting; anything relating to that aspect of his personal life never failed to make his blood boil. "No. I haven't seen anyone, and where are you going with this, exactly?"

"Um..." She cleared her throat, feeling nervous and slightly intimidated, all of a sudden. "You know, Tom, I really don't think, um..."

"Tell me what happened, Myrtle," he said in a commanding tone. He tried to grab her wrist, but failed. After all, there was nothing solid to hold on to. "And why did you call me a murderer?"

"I really don't... don't," she stammered. "If you're from the past, I'm not supposed to tell. I can’t…"

"You're a ghost, Myrtle," he pointed out with a sneer. "I don't think _supposed to_ applies to you any longer. Do you?"

She didn’t have an answer to that. For a few moments, she just stood there, thinking things over. This Tom was innocent, or as good as. Maybe if she told him what he'd done, they could change the future; or well, the present. Maybe all those people wouldn't have to die. Maybe she'd still be alive, herself, too—wouldn’t that be something?

"All right," she finally said. "Maybe you'd best sit down for this, though."

"Very well." Tom took a seat, albeit somewhat reluctantly. He inwardly flinched at how filthy the bathroom floor was. "I'm waiting."

Myrtle nodded once and began to speak.

* * *

Tom reemerged from the bathroom, shaky and pale.

"Are you all right?" Draco asked. "The pine sap didn't make you sick, did it? I've heard some people can get these really nasty allergic reactions..."

"The pine sap?" Tom gave a hollow, humourless laugh. "No, I didn't have an averse reaction to that. Now, to the truth, on the other hand..."

"The truth?" Draco asked, a feeling of dread settling in his gut. “About what?”

"Well." Tom coughed. "I had a very enlightening chat with Myrtle just now. I do believe you two have met? It seems I'm going to become a powerful Dark wizard who ends up killing his own relatives, a fellow student, countless Muggles… oh, and lest we forget, Harry Potter's parents, too; no wonder the specced git starts frothing at the mouth the minute he sets eyes on me."

Draco swallowed the sudden lump in his throat. He had no idea what to say.

"So, Malfoy," Tom went on, increasingly bitter, "pray tell, are you always in the habit of sleeping with the enemy or am I an exception?"

"You're... you're... hardly my enemy, Tom," Draco said quicky. "It's not like you've actually done anything."

"You were quite sure of that this morning as well, were you?"

"Well... no," he admitted, “but, you see, I assumed... I mean, you've been nothing but nice to me and it seemed, I mean, your affection for me felt sincere, and you haven't shown any signs, at least not to me, that you hate Mud-er, Muggleborns and you're nice enough to Granger as well, so..."

"Hm" was all Tom had to say to that. He took one of Draco's hands.  
For a few loaded moments, the boys looked at one another in silence.

"Tell me, Draco," Tom finally said, "if I asked you to elaborate further on certain things that apparently happened between 1942 and the present day, would you do so, or would you still throw that ‘cosmic imbalance’ crap at me?"

Draco took a deep breath. "Well, I suppose you know most of it already, so it probably wouldn't do any extra harm if were to, erm, fill in the blanks. I have to warn you, though, none of it is particularly pleasant."

"No." Tom smiled wryly. "I'd gathered as much."

"Right." Draco swallowed hard. "We'd best skip class then, and go back to our room."

"Won't the teacher complain?" Tom asked, not keen on drawing that sort of attention to himself.

"Hagrid? Not a chance. If anything, he'll be glad I'm not there."

Tom almost laughed. "What? Rubeus Hagrid teaches Care of Magical Creatures? That complete and utter oaf?!”

"Yeah, he's a bit..." Draco trailed off. "Anyway, I'm pretty sure he won't say anything."

"What about Potter, though? Won't he use it as an excuse to try to get you into trouble?"

Draco shrugged. "We can tell them I wasn't feeling well or something. We'll think of some excuse. We're _Slytherins_, aren't we?"

Tom smiled. "That, we are."

"Just... promise me one thing, please..."

"What?"

Draco took a deep breath. "Whatever you find out about yourself or the future, it won't change anything between the two of us, will it? I mean, at the risk of sounding like a bit of a Hufflepuff, I've only just found you, I wouldn't want... Well, obviously you'll have to go back some day, but..."

Tom lifted a hand and placed it on Draco's shoulder. "Sssh," he said. "I just want to know what's been going on. I have no intention of dumping you, if that's what you're afraid of."

Draco gave a relieved smile.

"And as for me returning home," Tom added cryptically, "the final word hasn't been said on that subject yet either."

* * *

"I can't bloody well believe it," Harry ranted to Hermione. "Malfoy and Riddle, that's just beyond disgusting!"

"What's so disgusting about it, Harry?" she asked reasonably. "The fact that it's _them_ or that they’re in a same-sex relationship?"

"Both, obviously," Harry said without even a hint of hesitation.

"How narrowminded of you, Potter," a voice behind them cut in, "but then you do have a problem these days with other people being happy, don't you? Laugh, the world laughs with you; cry and everyone gets dragged into the pity party; isn't that right?"

Harry turned around and was gob-smacked to find that the speaker was none other than Gregory Goyle. It was on the tip of Harry's tongue to say something about ferrets and loyalty amongst snakes—something quite witty too, even if he did think so himself—but for the sake of not getting himself into more trouble with the teachers, he decided to keep his mouth shut.

He did, however, intend to find out what exactly was going on between Malfoy and Riddle, aside from the obvious—which he really didn't want to think about too much. The two of them had to be up to something, and it couldn't possibly be anything good.


	12. Revelations

Draco looked down at his hands and with bated breath, waited for Tom's reaction. The two of them had already been talking for over an hour, mostly about Draco's first six years at Hogwarts and Voldemort's return and gradual rise to power.

Tom hadn't said much. He'd mostly listened in fascinated horror as he'd learned more and more about the Dark Wizard he would one day become. If he were completely honest with himself, he had to admit he didn't really know how all this made him feel; unsettled and mildly terrified would probably be an apt description.

Tom glanced over at Draco, who had gone silent and was looking an even deathlier shade of pale than usual. "Do you need to take a breather?" he asked worriedly.

"No," Draco said quickly. "The sooner we can put this behind us, the better."

Tom could only nod in agreement.

"Right then," Draco went on. "When Severus took me away, his original intention had been to keep me safe and eventually reunite me with my mother in France. But..." He inhaled sharply. "Someone told the Da- I mean, someone informed _Voldemort_ of Severus' plans. We still don't have a clue who it was or how they even found out, but shortly thereafter Mother was captured and so was I. They held her prisoner in some château in Marseilles, and as for me: Voldemort decided I could be useful to him in other ways. He... He liked the look of me, thought I was attractive, I guess, or maybe he just wanted to break me or punish my family through me, and so... He... kept calling me _pretty boy_ and sometimes, at least twice a week, he would come into my room... Yes, I had a room at the Riddle House, not like... Anyway, he..." Draco shook his head and choked back a sob, unable to find the right words to convey what had happened.

Tom quickly rose from his seat and hurried over to the window where Draco was sitting. "Are you trying to tell me," he asked softly, "that the vile bastard _raped_ you?"

Draco buried his face in his hands and nodded.

Now it was Tom's turn to go pale. "I'm sorry," he said, instantly realising how foolish and pointless such a statement was. "I hope you know, I would never... Oh _fuck_!" When he spat out that last word, the windows of Draco's room rattled ominously, as if in response.

Draco grabbed Tom's hand. "It wasn't you," he said quietly, "and I know you would never hurt me."

"No, I wouldn't," he said and sat down next to the other boy. "Never. You mean the world to me, even after such a short time…"

Draco kissed the back of the hand he was holding. "Would you like me to go on?"

Tom nodded. "Yes, do. You were absolutely right. The sooner we get this over with, the better."

"Right." Draco took another deep, bracing breath. "After a week or so, on top of everything else, the nasty mind games began. The people in charge somehow managed to convince my mother that they were threatening me, threatening me with harming her... I don't know any of the details, Tom. I don't think Severus does either, or maybe he just doesn't want to tell me. Regardless, unbeknownst to me, Mother decided to take the decision out of their hands. About a month after we'd been captured, she committed suicide, took her own life to save me, and..." He bit back tears. "Three days later, the Riddle Mansion was raided. If only she'd waited a little longer, just three bloody days, and..." He shook his head. "Anyway, I knew where Bellatrix was, so I told the Aurors who rescued me. Coincidentally, Lucius—my father—was with Bellatrix when the intervention squad..." He gave a bitter laugh. "So indirectly, I'm responsible for both my parents' deaths."

"No, you're not," Tom said flatly, sounding very reasonable and stoic, all of a sudden. "My future self is, or was. He's to blame, not you."

Draco let out a deep sigh. "Part of me knows that, I suppose, but in my heart… It refuses to sink in."

Tom nodded. "All right," he said, "then I only have one question left. And I'm afraid you won't like it very much, so if you'd rather we continue this tomorrow..."

"No. Go on."

"Right, then." Tom took a deep breath, before asking, "How long, exactly, have you been carrying a torch for Harry Potter?"

* * *

"Hermione? Oi! Hang on a sec!" he called out, running to catch up with her.

She stopped dead in her tracks and turned around. "What is it, Harry?" she asked, trying hard to keep the irritation out of her voice.

"Malfoy and Riddle," he began. "Do you know what's going on with those two?"

"Going on?" she said carefully. "How do you mean?"

"Well, they have to be plotting something, right?"

She suppressed the urge to groan. "I honestly don't think so, Harry."

"Oh, come on, Hermione!" he all but shouted. "Have you actually _seen_ them together, walking around like they own the place? Riddle will still be sent back, won't he? The staff haven't had a change of heart about that, right?"

"Harry," Hermione said slowly, "you really shouldn't be focusing on Tom and Draco like this. It's not healthy. You wouldn't want to get obsessed again, would you? I mean, the way you followed Draco around last year, it was hardly..."

"I was never obsessed," he cut her off. "I was just concerned, AND WITH BLOODY GOOD REASON, IT TURNED OUT!"

Hermione flinched. "Harry, please... Lower your voice. Firstly, as far as I can tell, _this_ Tom Riddle is a perfectly nice boy. Secondly...."

Harry laughed bitterly. "Yeah. Right. Of course he is. Because if he were evil, he'd be sure to flaunt it all over the school, wouldn't he?"

Hermione ignored that. "You have to learn to let this go, Harry," she said softly. "You have to get on with your life, and let past enemies get on with theirs. The war is _over_."

Harry only frowned in response. He clearly wasn't going to find any empathy here, let alone the assistance he'd hoped for, so he decided he would follow Hermione to her room later, after her Head Girl patrol duties. Then he’d be able to see with his own eyes what Riddle and Malfoy were up to.

* * *

Later that night, everything went according to plan.

Sneaking into the Heads Common Room after Hermione turned out to be unexpectedly easy. Once there, Harry patiently waited until she had retired to her room and again, he found himself pleasantly surprised. Tom and Draco's door wasn't even locked.

Wrapping his Invisibility Cloak tightly around him, he carefully entered the room.

It didn't take him long before he understood why Malfoy and Riddle had been so sloppy about security tonight. After Head Boy patrol, something that was apparently a joint effort these days, their minds had clearly been on other, more pressing matters.

At least if the sight in front of him was anything to go by...

Malfoy was standing against the wall, naked from the waist down, his trousers and boxers around his ankles. Riddle was kneeling down in front of him. His hands were on Malfoy's thighs and the future Dark Lord, much to Harry's amazement, was eagerly sucking Malfoy's dick.

Harry had to stop himself from gasping.

"I'm going to..." Malfoy let out a deep moan. "Oh... Fuck... Right there..." He threw his head back in abandon. "Fuck... Tom... _Yessss_...."

Harry's legs suddenly felt like jelly. His heart was hammering in his chest. Surely, this wasn't turning him on? No, it was just the shock, he tried to convince himself, even while the growing bulge in his trousers suggested something entirely different.

At the other side of the room, Tom pulled back, rose to his feet, and announced with a devious grin, "Your turn to kneel, Malfoy."

"Don't I at least get a kiss first?" Draco asked with a mock pout.

"Oh, very well," Tom said. “If we must.” He helped Draco up and tenderly kissed the boy's forehead.

Harry frowned when he heard Draco chuckle. Truthfully, he wasn't sure what unsettled him the most: the fact that Tom Riddle and Draco Malfoy were lovers or that there was apparently more to it than just sex, that the two of them were caring and affectionate towards each other.

Harry shook his head in bewilderment.

Meanwhile, Malfoy had moved to the bed and was hunched down on all fours.

Harry couldn't help but notice that the boy was already hard again. He told himself to stop staring, but he couldn't. Who'd have thought that Malfoy would be so...? Harry’s own cock twitched.

Riddle undressed completely—the sight of his naked body making Harry gulp once more—and he positioned himself behind Malfoy. He bent down to kiss Malfoy's neck and mouthed some kind of spell.

Harry didn't have much sexual experience to speak of, and he'd never fooled around with another boy. Otherwise, he might have recognised the incantation as a lubrication charm.

"Ready?" Riddle asked. "Or do you need me to finger you first?"

"Fuck, no," came the almost breathless response. "I've been ready since you sucked me off. I need you inside me, Tom. _Now._"

"Well." Tom grinned. "Far be it from me to say no to that." Slowly, he pushed himself all the way in.

Draco moaned. “Oh, fuck.”

Harry shivered. He was beginning to think that he really shouldn't be here, that his presence was completely inappropriate, but still... He was frozen on the spot, unable to stop watching…

The boys on the bed started to move. Thrusting back and forth, Tom reached a hand underneath Draco's body and encircled the boy's erection. Then he began to pump Malfoy's cock in time with his own thrusts.

Grunts, sighs and deep moans filled the room.

Harry was also breathing heavily. A few minutes later, standing there on shaky legs, he saw with wide eyes how Malfoy came a second time.

"Fuck, Tom," Draco cried out, his face contorting in pleasure.

Riddle wasn't far behind. One final, forceful, thrust and he too, was groaning in ecstasy.

Not long after, the two separated again. Tom pulled out and with a contented sigh, plopped himself down on the bed. Draco immediately snuggled closer and rested his head against his lover's shoulder. The young men were coming down from their high, intertwining their fingers, kissing each other tenderly and again, the affection between them confused Harry to no end. Were Malfoy and Riddle in love or something? Was such a thing even possible?

For reasons he couldn't identify, the very thought sent Harry into a panicked frenzy. Instantly snapped out of his trance, he turned around, carefully sneaked out of the bedroom, the Common Room and once he'd reached the corridor, he ran as fast as he could.

His breathing was ragged, his heart was in his throat and despite his confusion, he was also painfully aware of the throbbing erection in his trousers.

He hurried into the first bathroom he came across and was glad to find it empty. Something needed dealing with urgently. He couldn't return to Gryffindor Tower in this state.

He went into one of the stalls and spelled the door locked. With trembling hands, he unbuttoned his trousers and took out his achingly hard cock.

"Finally."

Harry closed his eyes and began to stroke himself. He imagined Malfoy writhing and moaning like the boy had done a few minutes earlier.

Then images came flooding back of Tom Riddle slamming into Malfoy, hard and fast, both of them moaning in pleasure.

Harry picked up his pace, using his other hand to steady himself against the wall.

He pictured Malfoy throwing his head back, screaming out the name of his lover and begging for more... This time, however, it wasn't Tom's name that rang through the room. What Malfoy wailed instead, as he thrust into his lover's hand, losing all inhibitions, nearing completion was, "Harry, Harry. Fuck yes, Harryyyyy."

One final pull (rough and fast), and Harry came hard, the name unwittingly slipping from his lips before he even realised it.

"Draco..."

When it was over, Harry shivered. All of a sudden, he felt dirty, conflicted, empty, and above all, terribly lonely.

Harry sunk down to his knees and sobbed.


	13. Fire On The Side

Tom reached out and slowly ran a hand along Draco's cheek. "Good morning," he said with a smile.

Grinning, Draco scooted closer. "Likewise."

"You don't regret what happened, do you?" Tom asked softly. He sounded genuinly concerned. "You don't think the two of us moved a little too fast?"

Draco chuckled. "Did you ever, at any point last night, get the impression that anything was going too fast for me, Tom?"

"No," he answered with a small smile, "but regret rarely occurs until the morning after."

"Well, in that case, just so we're clear…" Draco leaned up to kiss Tom's neck. "I have no regrets whatsoever. On the contrary. I haven't felt this good in a very long time."

"I'm glad," Tom said, "and just you know, I don't think I have, either."

Feeling Draco's soft hair between his fingers, Tom once again pondered on the possibility of not returning to the past. He wouldn't go so far as to say he had fallen in love, because he honestly had no idea what that was supposed to feel like, but he did know that in Draco Malfoy’s presence, he felt at peace, and he'd never felt that way with anyone else before.

* * *

"Harry?" Hermione called out. She was relieved to have finally located her best friend, even if his current location surprised her greatly. What was he doing in the Transfiguration classroom at this time of the morning? Had he spent the night here? And why on earth would he have done something like that?

"Are you all right?" she asked worriedly.

"Fine," he snapped.

"Harry," she said slowly, trying to shrug off the harsh tone he had just used. "I can understand that you're not doing too well and I empathise, honestly I do, but please, don't take it out on me. I'm your friend. I’m only trying to help."

He opened his mouth to utter a cutting retort—something about interfering, overbearing nuisances who didn’t know when to quit—but when he took in the sad, sympathetic look on her face, he instantly changed his mind. "It's complicated," he muttered, and let out a deep sigh.

She pulled up a chair and sat down next to him. "How do you mean, Harry? Complicated in what way?" She reached out, took his hands in hers, and was very relieved when he didn't pull away from physical contact like he usually did.

"I..." He swallowed hard, before he whispered, "I might fancy blokes, Hermione."

She frowned and then asked in a soft tone, "You mean you think you’re gay, Harry?"

He nodded grimly.

"All right," Hermione said carefully, "but if you don't mind me asking, how come you suddenly think that? You liked Ginny last year, didn't you? I mean…"

"Because I spent most of last night wanking over Malfoy, that’s why I think that," Harry blurted out, much louder than was strictly necessary, let alone appropriate.

Hermione couldn’t help but flinch. Even for her, there was still such a thing as too much information.

"Draco Malfoy," she finally said, after a few minutes of thick, ominous silence. "Oh my goodness! I'm terribly sorry."

That wasn’t a lie either. She realised all too well that this couldn't possibly be easy. Of all the people to have developed such feelings for… As if Harry wasn't going through a tough enough time as it was.

"Hey Hermione, I was wondering where…" Ron burst into the room, but as soon as he spotted Harry looking utterly miserable as well as unmistakably furious, he stopped dead in his tracks. "Um… is everything okay?" he asked awkwardly.

"It will be, Ron," Hermione answered in a determined voice, as she pulled Harry into a tight hug. "It will be."

* * *

Together, Tom and Draco sauntered into the Great Hall. They sat down in what had fast become their usual seats at the Slytherin table, and a few minutes later, they were pleasantly surprised to see Greg and Luna walking up to them. "All right if we join you?" Greg asked, gesturing towards two empty chairs.

"Um, yes, certainly," Draco said quickly. "You haven’t been properly introduced yet, have you? Tom, meet Gregory Goyle and Luna Lovegood."

Greg shook Tom's hand. The present situation was more than a little odd, considering everything that had gone before, but Greg was determined to keep an open mind. And besides, his girlfriend had been right. It was about time he made amends with Draco.

"Miss Lovegood," Tom said with a charming smile. Then he kissed the back of the girl’s right hand, a gesture that had both Greg and Draco frowning slightly.

At around the same time, Draco unconsciously felt his gaze drawn to the Gryffindor table. Mildly annoyed, he looked up, only to find himself gazing straight into the eyes of a rather guilty looking Harry Potter.

_Shit,_ Draco thought, but just as he was about to look the other way—really quickly, before his own eyes betrayed any other emotion than cold indifference—Harry blushed and averted his gaze first.

Draco blinked. What the hell had that been all about? If he didn't know any better, he’d almost start to wonder if Potter…

"Everything all right?" Tom enquired, noticing the strange expression on his boyfriend's face.

"Um, yeah," Draco whispered. "It's just… Potter's acting kind of bizarre."

"No change there, then," Tom said dismissively and began to butter his toast.

* * *

It was almost midnight when Draco made his way up to the Astronomy Tower. He had his doubts whether the diagram he’d drawn of the constellation they'd discussed that afternoon was entirely accurate, so he had decided to go and have a look for himself, just to make absolutely certain. After all, he had no intention of losing valuable points over something that trivial. These days, his grades were among the very few things he could still be proud of.

When he reached the top of the stairs, the sight in front of him made his breath catch in his throat.

Someone was standing on the ledge of one of the large windows, looking very much like he was about to make a deadly leap.

"Potter?" Draco exclaimed in surprise, and before he fully realised what he was doing, he was rushing to the astonished Gryffindor’s side and pulling the boy away from the ledge, using enough force to send them both tumbling down to the cold stone floor.

"Malfoy!" Harry spat, as soon as he'd sufficiently recovered from his shock. “What the fuck did you have to go and do that for?"

"Excuse me?" Draco shot back. "I was supposed to just let you jump, was I?"

"Let me…. What?" Harry's hollow laughter boomed from wall to wall. "I wasn't going to jump, you imbecile! The whole point is to stand on a ledge, knowing you can jump but making a conscious choice not to."

Draco's eyes widened. "You're insane," he said, shaking his head in bewilderment. "So Skeeter was right about you, after all: stark raving mad."

"As it happens, Malfoy, the expert from St Mungo's disagrees," Harry retorted, not fully realising what he was actually admitting to, not even stopping to consider that (more or less) mentioning his therapy to his long-term rival mightn’t have been the smartest idea he’d ever had.

Draco frowned. "All right," he said, ignoring Potter’s semi-confession, "and what if you'd slipped?"

Harry snorted. "Oh, what do you even _care_, Malfoy?!"

"I don't," Draco said a little too quickly, "but rest assured, Potter, I'll never try to help you _ever_ again. The next time I catch you looking like you’re on the verge of offing yourself, I'll just walk away quietly and let you get on with it."

With that, he turned on his heel and headed in the direction of one of the large periscopes.

"Malfoy!" Harry yelled after him. "Wait!"

Draco turned around again. "Now what?"

"Look," Harry began, as he quickly made his way over to where Malfoy was standing, "about what happened the other day…"

"What other day?" Draco snapped.

Harry nervously ran a hand through his hair. "That... um ... paralysis spell I cast on you…”

"Ah. _That._" Draco crossed his arms defensively. "What about it?"

"I… um... I probably shouldn't have done that," Harry stated lamely.

Draco almost laughed. "You don’t say, Potter!"

"Anyway," Harry went on, "I've … um… I've been having some problems lately and well… That’s no excuse, really, but… my point is… you didn't deserve that… so... so… I'm sorry."

Draco smirked. "Hm, St Mungo's experts clearly aren't what they used to be," he remarked dryly. "But for what it's worth, Potter, fair enough, plenty of water under the bridge and all that rot, and I have far better things to do these days anyhow than to fight with you.”

The words escaped Harry's lips before he could stop himself: "Things like Tom Riddle, you mean?"

Draco sneered. "Yes, if you must know," he replied smugly. For the briefest of moments, he was under the impression that Harry seemed jealous, but Draco quickly pushed those thoughts away. The mere notion was ridiculous; Harry Potter despised him, loathed him with every fibre of his being, and the boy couldn't be very fond of Tom either. "So, was there anything else, Potter?" Draco finally added. "Maybe you'd care to discuss my sex life a little further?"

Harry quickly shook his head and suddenly found himself blushing furiously.

"Very well, then," Draco said. "In that case, I suggest you sod off back to Gryffindor, before I abuse my power as Head Boy and start relieving you of some excessive House points."

Harry bit his lip. At this point, it was very tempting to start throwing some insults Malfoy's way, to instigate another fight, but Harry couldn't bring himself to do it. He suddenly realised, much to his own horror, that he really didn’t want to argue with Malfoy anymore.

So in the end, Harry only nodded and silently returned to his dormitory, leaving a bemused Draco staring after him.

* * *

"Did you manage to find all the information you needed?" Tom asked, as Draco walked back into their room.

"No problem at all." Draco placed his parchment and quill on the desk. "I did have another run-in with Potter, though."

"Oh?" Tom frowned. "He didn't hurt you again, did he?"

"No, he didn't. That was the strangest thing, actually." Draco sat down on the bed. "The prat came up to me and apologised."

"Really? That's certainly… _unexpected_."

"You can say that again."

For a few minutes, Tom watched his boyfriend intently. Draco was clearly doing his utmost to appear as innocent as possible, but the only thing he accomplished was to look all the more guilty instead. "Tell me," Tom said, "at the risk of sounding like a possessive bastard, which, admittedly, I am, could I ask you a question?"

"Okay,” Draco replied hesitantly.

"All right, then. Assuming that Potter were interested in… persuing you, would you…?"

"Would I _what_?" Draco asked, as his heart started to race.

"Ah. Let me put it this way..." Tom raised a challenging eyebrow. "Would you give in?"

Draco swallowed hard. How easy wouldn't it be to lie, to try to talk his way out of this? But he knew full well that not only did Tom deserve better than that, there was also a significant chance that he'd see right through him. Tom was no fool by any stretch of the imagination.

"Honestly?" Draco asked softly.

"Of course. We should always be honest with one another, should we not?"

"Right." Draco took a deep breath, before he admitted quietly, "If I could, to put it bluntly, shag Potter, I would, but I can't, because I have you, and I wouldn't want to lose you. You're... Well, you're a lot more precious to me than I could ever imagine Potter being."

"Good answer," Tom said with a smug grin, “because I’m certainly not giving you up. But what if I gave you permission to… have some fun with him?"

"If you..." Draco's eyes widened with shock. "_What?!_"

"I’ve been thinking that it might be rather... _entertaining_, watching you and him... you know..."

"Wait? What? You… You’d _watch_ us?"

Tom gave a wicked chuckle. "I'm thinking that could be one of my conditions, yes."

"Your conditions?" Draco's head was spinning. He wondered why all the oxygen in the room had suddenly vanished. "Um, look," he began, willing himself back to reality. "This is just idle talk anyway. Potter wouldn't be interested in me, not in a million years."

"Don't be too sure of that, Draco," Tom said with an enigmatic smile. "I noticed him watching you today. At one point, he was practically drooling. And every time you happened to glance anywhere in his direction, he quickly looked away, blushing like a besotted schoolgirl."

"What?" Draco gulped. "Are you serious?"

"Very much so," Tom said. "If you want Potter, he's probably yours for the taking."

"Wow," was all Draco managed in response to that.

"Wow, indeed." Tom grinned. "And far be it from me to deny you anything you really want, Draco. You deserve to be spoiled. Now," he whispered, "how about letting your boyfriend do just that, hmm?"

Draco nodded. He gazed up into another pair of mesmerising green eyes and temporarily forgot all about Harry Potter.


	14. Done Wrong

“Leave me the _fuck_ alone, Riddle," Harry bellowed, his voice shattering the silence and bouncing off the walls of the otherwise deserted corridor.

Tom shook his head, clearly amused. "I don't recall bothering you, Potter," he pointed out calmly. "You were completely unaware of your surroundings, had your head in the clouds as usual, so you almost bumped into me. I, on the other hand, _was_ watching where I was going, so unless you object to my mere presence, nothing happened that justifies you getting so agitated." He raised an eyebrow and added with a sneer, "Are you quite sure that your special… _therapy_ is working?"

"I am not AGITATED!" Harry shouted, fooling absolutely no one, but rather attracting the attention of Professor Snape who was busy in a nearby storage room. Aggravated by the unwelcome interruption, which had broken his concentration and turned an already foul mood even more sour, the man rose from his chair and swept out into the corridor. "Mister Potter," he announced. “Detention. _Now!_"

A satisfied smirk spread across Tom's face, only to immediately vanish again as Professor Snape added, "And Mister Riddle will be accompanying you. There are certain items I urgently need from the forest. Our stock is running very low."

"But…" Tom and Harry protested in unison.

"Just a moment," the man told them flatly, and retrieved a self-inking quill and a piece of parchment from his robe pockets. "I shall write you a list."

Harry gulped. He didn't really mind the forest, not even at this hour when dusk was setting in. After all, he used to go there quite often at any time of the day or night, to think or to escape from life in general.

The prospect of being out there with Tom Riddle, however, was another matter entirely. Harry wasn't exactly scared of this younger version of Voldemort—not really, not _a lot_—but the boy did make him very uncomfortable. Not to mention that this whole situation was rather uncanny. Who knew what Riddle would do if he had Harry alone, out of everyone else's sight, far away from potential witnesses? Harry resolved to be at his most vigilant for the remainder of the night.

Tom, for his part, crossed his arms and frowned. For one thing, he was sure that Draco would be worried, wondering where he was, and aside from that, Harry Potter was clearly a loose cannon. Who could foresee the kind of things he'd try in the deep depths of a dark forest? Not that the boy would succeed, obviously, of that Tom was quite certain, but still… He didn't think it could hurt to be prepared.

As Snape continued to write, Harry and Tom threw one another venomous glares, and Tom had to wonder: didn't the tall, gangly man in front of them realise that these two students could easily end up killing each other, or was he half-hoping they might?

* * *

Harry let out a deep sigh. “We’ll never find everything we’re bloody looking for,” he lamented loudly, “and it’s getting darker by the minute.”

Tom rolled his eyes. “Well, things might go a little easier if you stopped stomping around like a Hippogriff in heat,” he snapped. “And please, do keep up the hostile, loud attitude. We’ll be surrounded by all kinds of creatures in no time, all of the clawed, fanged and infuriated variety if we’re lucky.”

“I'll show you hostility, Riddle,” Harry hissed.

Tom shook his head. _Damn you, Severus Snape._ This detention was a bad idea, on so many levels. Not only was their current situation on the verge of becoming explosive, it was also obvious that they were no longer alone.

Tom had already spotted them: the hoof prints on the ground, those yellow eyes spying on them from in between the branches.

Powerful wizard or not, he was still human—_mortal._ There were things in this place he didn’t particularly fancy messing around with.

He took a deep breath and rather than enrage Potter even further, he decided to try another tactic instead. “You know,” he said reasonably, in the most neutral tone of voice he could manage, “regardless of what my counterpart from this time did, you have no rational cause to distrust, much less begrudge me, Potter. After all, I didn't kill your parents.” He gave his companion a pointed look and added, “Nor do I plan to.”

"Oh?” Harry smirked. “Got some better target in mind this time around? Let me guess… you’re going straight for Dumbledore?"

"No,” Tom answered simply. “As it happens, I’m planning on moving into Malfoy Manor this summer, when Daco leaves school.”

"What?!” Harry stammered, clearly taken aback. “But you… you can't do that... you have to return to your own time… You _will_ get back… McGonagall said…"

Tom chuckled. “Of course. Minerva dearest has spoken.”

Harry shook his head slowly, as if a terrible truth were suddenly dawning on him. "This is one of your tricks, isn't it? “ he finally said. “You and Malfoy. You’re up to something. You’re in on this together.”

"_In on this together?_” Tom snapped, momentarily forgetting all about the Dark Creatures whose attention he really oughtn’t attract. “You’re really blind as a bat, aren't you, Potter?"

Harry huffed. “Do me a favour, Riddle. When we raided your mansion, or what was still left of it, we finally found Malfoy, after months of fruitless searching for the git. He had his own private room there with all the luxury his little heart desired.” Harry took a deep breath, steeling himself, and continued, “While down in the dungeons, other people—good people—rotted away in their own filth, he slept in silk sheets. Malfoy… Just in case you didn’t know this yet, Riddle, your precious little _boyfriend_ was being kept by Voldemort like some kind of upper class rent boy, and that’s probably what he was to him, too. Malfoy was Voldemort’s personal whore.”

Tom’s eyes narrowed dangerously. "Don't you _dare_ speak about Draco like that!" he snarled.

Harry let out a hollow laugh. "I expect the truth hurts, doesn’t it?"

Tom shook his head. "You wouldn't know the truth, Potter,” he said bitterly, “if it came running through those bushes right now and bit your head off.”

“Oh?” Harry crossed his arms defensively. "And what the hell is that supposed to mean? I can understand your wanting to defend the git, but please… All the evidence…”

“Draco Malfoy,” Tom cut him off sharply, his need to defend his boyfriend’s character suddenly much greater than his wish for discretion—and besides, he vowed to himself, if Potter ever told anyone else about this, it would be the last thing the stupid sod ever did. “Draco Malfoy,” he said again, slowly, enunciating every syllable, ‘’never willingly submitted to … that man. NEVER.”

“But... but,” Harry spluttered, “when we found him… in that room…”

“Yes, you found him in that room,” Tom shot back. “Well done. Good for you. And then you drew your conclusions, which were based a lot more on prejudice and hatred towards Draco than on any actual evidence that might or might not have been there. Now please, for the love of all things magical, don’t make me draw you a picture of what really happened in that bedroom, Potter, of why Draco was being ‘kept’, as you so charmingly put it, in the way he was.”

"But..." Harry’s eyes grew impossibly wide while all the colour drained from his face. “But…”

Tom gave the most malicious sneer Harry had ever seen. "Catching on at last, are we, Potter?”

"So Hermione was right,” Harry muttered, mostly to himself.

"Well,” Tom pointed out, “the girl _is_ smarter than you, which, granted, isn't much of an accomplishment, but nonetheless…"

"She said… that… maybe Malfoy didn't want to tell anyone… what had happened because... he was deeply ashamed and… Oh God, I-I think I'm going to be sick..."

"No, Potter, you’re not," Tom said firmly. "You're standing next to the last item on our list. Vomit anywhere near it, and I promise you here and now, you’ll be ingesting your next meal through a straw."

Harry gulped.

"Sit down,” Tom continued in a business-like fashion. “Put your head between your knees and take deep breaths. Some hero you are, incidentally. You don’t even know how to deal with panic… and please… don't look at me like that... I do _read_.”

Flinching, Harry sat down and did as he was told, until his head felt a little clearer, although the same thing definitely couldn’t be said for his conscience. Assuming Riddle was right, and it certainly looked that way, Harry had made a terrible, unforgivable mistake when it came to Draco Malfoy. The boy had been just another innocent victim in that war and Harry had treated him as though… He swallowed hard and promised himself that somehow, he’d put this right again.

When Tom had gathered the right amount of the final herb Snape needed, he went to stand in front of Harry. He held out his hand and said, "If you're quite ready, Potter?"

Harry frowned, but then he remembered something the healer had told him the other day. That he should let go and move on, treat every day as if it were his first.

It had sounded terribly cheesy at the time, and it still was when he really thought about it, but he also realised, now more than ever, that she'd had a point, and besides, technically, this Riddle wasn't Voldemort yet. Maybe he never even intended to be. Perhaps there truly was a different future out there somewhere.

Finally, Harry nodded, took the offered hand and allowed Tom to help him to his feet.

They returned to the castle in silence.

"I’ll take this to Snape's office,” Tom said when they reached the stairs leading to the Slytherin section.

“Do I need to come with you?” Harry asked.

“No,” Tom said flatly. “I believe your name is at the top of the list of people to never trust with the Slytherin password.”

“Oh,” Harry said dumbly, and for a few minutes, he remained where he was, shuffling his feet, looking like he was waiting for someone.

“Did you want anything else?” Tom asked, slightly puzzled.

"Dra- Malfoy,” Harry began carefully. “Is he… all right?"

"Yes. He’s doing quite well these days.”

"Is there um… anything I can do to help?”

Tom shook his head. "Moving though your concern is, Potter, he has me. I’ll take care of him."

“Yes,” Harry said quickly. “Yes, of course.” With that, he turned on his heel and hurried back to his own Common Room.

Tom smirked at the Gryffindor’s retreating form, wondering if Potter could possibly be any more obvious.

* * *

Harry once again felt his gaze drawn to the other side of the room. Malfoy and Riddle were talking quietly and now and again, Malfoy would snag a slice of bacon from the other boy’s plate, a gesture that seemed very unusual for such a stuck-up pureblood.

“Harry.” Hermione gave her friend a discreet nudge. _“Harry!”_

“Huh? Sorry,” he said sheepishly.

She nodded slowly and then suggested in a whisper, “Look, maybe you should try to talk to them? Try to be… I don’t know if it would ever be possible for you and Draco to be friends, Harry, but at least… perhaps the three of you could make an effort to clear the air? It would certainly make seventh year a little… easier for us all. A lot of people are still upset over the war, obviously, and seeing you and Draco constantly at odds and now Tom Riddle being here too…” She trailed off.

Harry frowned. Did he really want to be Malfoy’s friend? Was that even an option anymore after everything that had already happened between them? Years of hostility weren’t just wiped out overnight, were they?

And then there was also Tom Riddle to consider. Harry still hadn’t figured out what his role was in all of this.

Had Riddle turned Malfoy into some kind of personal project, Harry wondered?

But then, their relationship seemed so much more than that. It looked solid and real and Riddle had sounded quite sincere in his defence of Malfoy last night.

Did the two of them really plan to move into the manor together this summer? Would the teachers ever agree to that? And what would it mean for the future, exactly?

Harry sighed, and then he looked up, startled. Eyes as green as his own were looking straight at him, challengingly.

Harry swallowed hard. He quickly turned his head away and berated himself for having all the social graces of a Hufflepuff after two shots of Firewhiskey.

* * *

In the early afternoon, Harry found himself following Malfoy again, although he wasn’t exactly sure why he was doing it this time.

Maybe he wanted to be absolutely certain that the boy had indeed changed, before he did something drastic like approach him. For a moment, he thought that this was just like last year. If he had known back then what was going to happen a few months later, would things have turned out differently?

Harry shook his head sadly. Thinking about that kind of thing really didn’t do anyone any good. It only piled on the guilt even further.

“I’m going to turn around now, Potter,” a voice in front of him suddenly drawled. “I trust you’ll be enough of a Gryffindor not to run?”

Harry’s heart jumped up into his throat. He supposed he could still escape if he wanted to, but what purpose would that serve? And he had been planning to talk to Malfoy anyway, hadn’t he? He’d best get it over with, then.

He took a deep breath and shrugged off his cloak.

With one elegant swoop, Malfoy turned around and took a few confident steps forward, until he was standing right in front of Harry. “Pray tell,” the boy said, "what can I do for you?”

“I… um…” Harry ran a shaky hand through his hair. “Can we talk?”

“Talk?” Draco seemed to think that over for a moment. “Well,” he at last said. "We have twenty minutes before the next class starts.”

“Right.”

“Follow me, then, Potter.”

They found an empty classroom. They went in and sat down on two opposing desks.

“Fifteen minutes, Potter,” Draco pointed out. “I suggest you start talking.”

Harry nodded. “Right. I… was wondering if we could… I mean, the war is over and…” Unable to find the right words, and thinking that maybe he should have rehearsed this, he stuck out his hand and offered, “Truce?”

Draco raised his eyebrows. He had to stop himself from laughing. Not that this was funny per se, but it was definitely an interesting sight to behold. Harry Potter wanting to shake his hand. For so many years, he’d dreamed of this moment.

“You want us to bury the hatchet?” Draco asked slowly.

“Yes,” Harry said simply. “I think it’s about time we stopped fighting.”

Draco smirked. “Well, not to be petty or juvenile about it, Potter, but you’re the one who always starts the trouble these days. I’d much rather just get on with my life, frankly.”

“So, that’s a yes?”

Draco shrugged. “Sure. Whatever you say, Potter,” he replied dismissively and finally shook the offered hand, causing Harry to grin widely when he released it again.

At that very moment, the door opened. “I was wondering where you got to, Draco,” Tom Riddle said, before turning to the other boy. “Not up to your usual tricks again, are you, Potter?”

“No,” Draco answered in Harry’s stead. “Actually, we settled our differences. More or less.”

Tom grinned. “Kissed and made up, did you?”

“No kissing, I’m afraid,” Draco answered dryly. He slid off the desk again, while Harry merely blushed; he had a feeling that Tom Riddle was on to him, and it wasn’t a pleasant realisation at all.

“We have to get to Transfiguration,” Tom said.

“So we do,” Draco agreed.

“Are you coming with us, Potter?” Tom asked, something challenging in his voice.

“Um, no,” Harry said quickly. “I’ve got Astronomy. Other side of the castle.”

“Right,” Tom said. “See you later, then.”

Draco gave Harry a brief glance and a small, guarded smile, before he joined Tom and the two of them left the classroom.

Harry let out a long breath he didn’t even know he’d been holding. He had no idea how he was supposed to feel now, but still something told him that there was a major change on the horizon.

Yes. Of that, he was almost convinced.


	15. Bittersweet Surrender

Harry wasn't entirely certain why, on that very same night, he went looking for Draco Malfoy once more. He didn’t fully understand his reasons for wanting to pursue this in the first place, either. He knew full well that Malfoy was already involved, and with someone Harry didn't exactly want another confrontation with. Maybe he was just a glutton for punishment, too much of a stubborn Gryffindor for his own good.

He swiftly turned a corner, quickly heading for the corridor where the Map indicated that Malfoy was.

It didn’t take long before Harry caught sight of the Slytherin. He quickly shrugged off his cloak, and called out, “Malfoy?”

Draco looked up from the roster of Prefect duties he had just filled out. “Yes, Potter, what do you want?”

“Er…” Harry ran hand through his hair, suddenly feeling awkward. “Nothing. I mean…”

“Nothing?” Draco took a few confident steps forward, until he was standing right in front of the other boy. “Are you _quite_ sure of that? Then why did you come looking for me, exactly?”

“I didn’t.” Harry bit his lip. “That is to say…”

Draco shook his head in amusement. “You’re a dreadful liar, Potter,” he said matter-of-factly. “The blush gives it away, you realise. Every. Single. Time.”

“The-The blush. Right.”

Harry coughed nervously, and he hesitated, very briefly. Then he reached out and roughly grabbed Draco by the wrists, pulling him into his arms and kissing him clumsily.

Draco was stunned, not as much by the kiss as by the sloppy urgency of it all; Potter was certainly eager, if not much else.

When Draco didn’t react straight away, made no move at all to reciprocate, Harry panicked. He abruptly released the Slytherin again, turned around and decided to make a run for it.

Draco was faster, however. He grabbed Harry’s arm. “Don’t,” he said sharply. He took Harry by the hand and led him into the nearest classroom, charming the door locked behind them. “Let’s try that again, shall we? _Properly_ this time?”

Harry gulped and nodded uncertainly.

“Right, then.” Draco smiled. Still holding Harry’s hand, he leaned in, he lightly trailed his tongue over Harry’s bottom lip, and he kissed him gently.

The gesture was slow and sensual. A tingling sensation ran up and down Harry’s spine. His eyes fluttered shut. He couldn’t believe that this was happening or how amazing it felt. His first kiss with Cho had been downright horrible. Snogging Ginny, as he remembered it, had been a slight improvement, but still nothing that could even begin to compare to this.

Draco stopped for a moment and pulled back slightly. “Did you enjoy that?” he asked in a whisper.

“Yes.”

“Good.” Draco breathed against the other boy’s mouth and then carefully slipped his tongue between slightly parted lips.

Harry didn’t know what to do at first. He longed to respond, but he wasn’t sure how. He definitely didn’t want to mess it up again like he had done earlier. He felt Malfoy deepen the kiss and tangle his hands in his hair. Harry tentatively wrapped his free arm around Draco’s waist, pulling him closer, and then he kissed him back in earnest.

They stayed like that for a long time; kissing heatedly, now and again pausing to catch their breaths. Harry was somewhat surprised that Draco didn’t try to do more, but he was also relieved. This was already overwhelming enough as it was.

And not only for him, it seemed.

Looking uncharacteristically flustered, Draco suddenly broke away and took a step backwards. “I think it’s time we called it a night, don’t you?” he asked, sounding slightly out of breath.

“Oh.” Harry didn’t bother hiding his disappointment. “You already want to stop?”

Draco chuckled. “No, Potter. I’d happily spend the entire night here with you, but it would lead to more than just kissing and at this point, I don’t think you’re ready for that.” He leaned in again, flicking his tongue over a spot just beneath Harry’s right ear that made the boy shiver. “You haven’t done much of this before, have you?”

Harry swallowed hard. “No,” he admitted quietly. “Not really.”

“Well, then.” Draco smiled. “We’ll take it slow.” He ran a hand through Harry’s unruly hair.

The gesture only added further to the Gryffindor’s mounting confusion. Not only had Malfoy kissed him, he was also being gentle and affectionate; and although Harry was hardly complaining, he had to admit that it was all very unexpected, as well as a little bizarre. And then he also thought about Tom Riddle; what was his role exactly? Was all this some kind of game the two of them were playing with him?

“Um,” Harry began hesitantly. “Are you going to tell Ri- tell Tom about this?”

Draco grinned. “Yes. That would be the fair thing to do, wouldn’t you say?”

Harry frowned. “Won’t he be mad at you?”

“I doubt it.”

“Oh?”

“Tom and I have an understanding, _Harry_.”

“Oh? Like... um... some kind of... open relationship?”

“Open to _you_, at any rate.”

“Oh.”

Draco laughed. “Not terribly eloquent tonight, are we?”

Harry shrugged. “I’m just a little surprised, that’s all.” And he was. More than just a little, too. He had expected Riddle to be a lot more possessive, controlling even. He didn’t seem the type who’d be willing to share.

“I see.” Draco smiled again, slightly amused at how rattled the Gryffindor looked.

“Okay,” Harry said. “I’ll be heading back to the tower, then. I’ll see you tomorrow, won’t I?”

“I think it would be hard avoiding me. We have two classes together,” Draco pointed out dryly and then asked, “Would you like to meet up?”

Harry nodded.

“Lunchtime? Here?”

“Sure.” Impulsively, Harry threw his arms around Draco and kissed him again. “Tomorrow, then.”

Draco nodded. “Yes, Potter. Tomorrow.”

Harry smiled widely, before he turned on his heel and all but skipped out of the room.

Chuckling softly, Draco whipped around just in time to see his boyfriend stepping out of the shadows.

Tom smirked. “That was certainly… _interesting_. A few days ago, he was as good as ready to kill you with his bare hands, now you have him acting like a schoolgirl with a crush.”

Draco grinned. “How did you know he’d come here anyway?”

“Oh. Just a hunch.”

Draco rolled his eyes at that, but decided to change the subject. “You know, Tom, Potter doesn’t have much experience in the snogging department.”

“That much was obvious even from where I was standing. I suppose you’ll have to teach him then, won’t you?”

Draco smiled, but then asked in a more serious tone of voice, “You still want to go through with this, then? It didn’t bother you to see him and me…?”

“_Bother_ isn’t the word I’d use, no,” Tom replied with a smirk. He took one of Draco’s hands and guided it into his robes, placing it over the unmistakable bulge in his trousers.

Draco chuckled. “That actually turned you on.”

Tom gave him a pointed look. “You mean you didn’t feel like stripping Potter naked and having your wicked way with him when he started to moan like that?”

Draco’s waning desire came coursing back with a vengeance. “Yes. Well, if you put it like that…”

Tom grinned deviously. “You and I have some unfinished business here, don’t we?”

“Or we could take it back to our room,” Draco suggested.

“No.” Tom cast a strong locking charm on the door. “I’ve waited long enough,” he said and pulled Draco into his arms.

* * *

"One more week," Snape declared, “and by then, everything should be ready for Mister Riddle's return. Considerably sooner than expected, I'm relieved to say."

Minerva crossed her arms. "You know, Severus," she said carefully, "I've been thinking…"

"Yes?"

"Tom appears to be fitting in quite well here, doesn't he?"

The man raised a quizzical eyebrow. "Meaning?"

"Well, for one thing, he and Draco Malfoy seem to have become quite close, and I haven't seen Draco this happy for a long time, since first year, possibly. And I'm sure I don't have to tell you what a pitiful state he was in last summer, after everything…" She trailed off.

"Where exactly are you going with this, Minerva?" Snape asked sternly.

"Well, frankly, Severus, would it be so terrible to not send Tom back to his own time?"

Snape's eyes widened. "Yes. According to what I've read, the consequences would be potentially disastrous. We would be reshaping the past, the present _and_ the future. And as for Tom Riddle's role, who knows what might happen if he were allowed to stay here?"

"Draco will be devastated all over again," Minerva remarked sadly.

"Yes, well," Snape said flatly. "I warned him about this. I warned them both. But did they listen? Of course not. Stubborn brats, always thinking they know better."

Minerva sighed deeply. "I won't try to stop you from what you intend to do, Severus, but I do hope that before you do it, you also take the time to consider that severe consequences can go both ways. Tom is merely a teenage boy now. If he genuinely cares for Draco, and I sincerely believe he does, his bitterness at their forced separation won't improve his views on humanity. It might even give him a strong incentive to become a far more powerful, an even more ruthless Dark Lord than the one Harry Potter vanquished."

With that, she left the classroom, the sound of her footsteps fast fading in the distance.

Snape shook his head, clenched his fists, and let out an exasperated sigh. He slowly walked over to the window and directed his gaze at the lake. Lost in thought, he remained there, unmoving, for quite a while.

* * *

Lying in bed, Harry stared up at the ceiling, unable to find any sleep.

He kept thinking of his little meeting with Draco earlier, the way the two of hem had kissed, over and over again, as if doing so had been the most natural thing in the world, as if they didn’t have years of bitter rivalry and fierce animosity between them.

He knew now, beyond any doubt, that he wanted Draco. He had even made peace with that realisation. Still, before this went any further, physically or emotionally, he had to be certain. Just because he was inexperienced didn’t mean he would also allow himself to be used.

Careful not to wake the others in his dorm, he got out of bed.

He knew Ron usually left Hermione’s room around midnight. That gave him exactly twelve minutes to head up there.

He threw his cloak over his shoulders and rushed over to the Heads’ quarters.

Once arrived, he didn't have to wait long before Hermione and Ron emerged. While his two friends shared a lingering kiss in the corridor, completely oblivious to everything but each other, Harry saw his chance and sneaked into the Common Room.

Relieved to find Draco’s door unlocked again, he entered the boy's room as discreetly as he could.

Tom and Draco never noticed. They were lying on the bed, engaged in what looked like a very important conversation.

Harry was suddenly very relieved that all they were doing was talking. He wasn’t sure if he could have handled seeing Tom Riddle and Draco… No, he didn’t even want to think about that sort of thing at the moment.

Instead, he willed himself to concentrate on what the two young men on the bed were talking about.

“It would help if we had some way of finding out how they’re planning to do it, and when,” Draco said. “It could give us a head start.”

“Maybe your little friend Potter has heard something,” Tom suggested.

“I doubt it. They probably don’t trust him any more than they do the two of us. He’s a potential liability, remember?”

“Quite.”

“They never lifted a finger to help him either,” Draco added bitterly. “I suppose my silence implicated me, to a point, but he saved them all, and he comes back to school a complete mess, and it takes an attack on a fellow student before they decide to intervene. Makes you wonder about a few things, doesn’t it?”

“As I understand it,” Tom said, “they never took very good care of their hero from the start. Why would they begin now, when he’s already given them what they wanted?”

Draco shrugged.

“Anyway, it’s getting late. We should probably get some sleep.”

“Hm.”

Harry watched them as they both got under the covers. Tom wrapped an arm around Draco, and Draco snuggled closer and leaned in for a tender goodnight kiss.

The pair looked very happy together, and Harry’s heart sank. He suddenly felt a twinge of jealousy, or was it longing?

The more he thought about it (and he’d been thinking about it far too much tonight), the more he found himself wondering whether what he really wanted was to be in Tom’s place (sleeping with Draco in every sense of the word) or if what he truly craved was to be a third participant in a relationship that seemed exciting and exhilarating and that also held an obvious love and tenderness, the kind of which Harry had never known before.


	16. Shift In Perception

“Why aren’t you in bed, Malfoy?”

Slightly startled, Draco looked up from the couch.

“Well?” Tom urged. He had a worried expression on his face.

“Nightmare,” Draco said softly. “I couldn’t get back to sleep afterwards.”

Tom shook his head. He walked over to the sofa and sat down. “So why didn’t you wake me up?” he asked.

Draco blinked. “Do you really expect me to wake you when I’ve had a bad dream?”

“In a word: yes.”

“Why? It’s not like that would accomplish anything. Well, except for two people suffering through a sleepless night.”

“Has it ever occurred to you,” Tom said, cupping Draco’s face, “that I might actually want to stay up with you? And we certainly wouldn’t _suffer_, believe me.”

“It’s just…” Draco sighed. “I hate being this… weak. Father always said…”

“Shush. We’ve been through this before, haven’t we? Your father is dead. Gone. What he told you, what he taught you, what he did, it doesn’t matter anymore.” Tom pulled Draco into his arms. “It probably never did. And you’re not weak. Do you really think I’d bother with a weakling? Credit me with some taste here, would you, Malfoy?”

Draco gave a weary smile. “Tom?”

“Yes?”

“Do you think we could…?”

“What?”

Their eyes met and Tom instantly understood. “Sex won’t actually solve anything, you know,” he whispered.

“I know. I just want to feel something good, something other than…”

“Come here, then.”

A few minutes later, Draco temporarily forgot all about the damage and the pain. All he could do was lose himself to the warm, wonderful feelings and hope that this would never end, that Tom would never be forced to leave him.

* * *

“Mister Potter,” Professor Snape barked at the tardy student. "How considerate of you to grace us with your presence at last! Good to see we are still worthy of your precious time.”

Harry flinched. Quickly, he made his way to his desk, struggling not to draw too much additional attention to himself as he did so.

Snape was nowhere near done with him yet, however.

“Class, we shall be dueling today,” the man announced. “Mister Potter has arrived just in time to give us all a demonstration of how it’s done. Mister Potter, your wand, which I'm sure you must have missed terribly, is over there on the desk. Mister Malfoy, if you would be so kind as to stand up as well...”

Reluctantly, Draco rose from his seat. He wanted no part of this—_not again_.

“Appoint your seconds, gentlemen,” Snape said.

“I’ll be Draco’s second,” Tom volunteered.

Ron stood up and rushed to his best friend’s side. “And I’ll be Harry’s.”

Hermione let out a deep sigh and shook her head sadly. This couldn’t possibly end well. What was Snape even thinking? What was all this supposed to achieve? Did he perhaps derive some kind of sadistic pleasure from putting Harry in such a horrible position?

_Yes,_ a voice in her head told her. She wasn’t proud that she felt this way, particularly about someone she had always respected and admired, but still… This was disgusting, unprofessional and completely out of order.

There they stood in front of the class: Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy, ready to face off against each other once more, exactly like they had done in second year.

Except…

“I can’t do this,” Harry muttered under his breath. “I won’t.” He knelt before Draco, in a shaky voice declared, “I concede,” and laid his newly re-acquired wand at his opponent’s feet. Then, without another word, he hurried out of the classroom as quickly as his legs would carry him.

Shocked gasps were heard all around, and in front of the gathering of stunned students, Tom moved first. Not paying any attention to the teacher’s threats behind him, he strode after Harry.

Snape turned and addressed a flabbergasted Draco. “Seeing Mister Potter has forfeited, I suppose that leaves you and Mister Weasley. Perhaps Miss Granger could take Mister Potter’s wand for safekeeping and return it to him later?”

Hermione complied. She picked up the wand and gave both Draco and Ron a look that said, “Please don’t hurt each other,” before she went back to her seat. A feeling of dread settled in the pit of her stomach.

* * *

It didn’t take Tom long to find Harry.

The boy was sitting on a desk, his head in his hands, in the same classroom where he’d spent time with Draco the previous night.

“Potter,” Tom said, keeping his tone carefully neutral.

“Riddle,” Harry snapped back. He straightened his shoulders, determined not to look as weak as he felt. He had no idea whether he’d be able to defend himself without his wand, but considering what had happened during their last confrontation, he assumed it was highly unlikely. _Fuck._

Tom didn’t seem to want to fight, however. “Snape’s a nasty piece of work, isn’t he?” he said offhandedly. “No doubt he and my future self got along swimmingly.”

“Yes, they did,” Harry stated flatly. He saw no reason to lie; if Riddle truly wanted to hurt him, he was already as good as dead anyway. Why prolong the agony?

Instead, however, Tom asked, “Are you all right?”

Harry shrugged, not keen to discuss his current state of mind with Riddle; he still didn’t trust him in the least.

Again, Tom’s reaction surprised him. “We could go up to the Heads’ Rooms and wait there for Draco if you like?”

Harry frowned.

Tom shook his head. “Please. Don’t look at me like that, Potter. I know all about what happened here last night.”

“Oh.” Harry blushed despite himself. “Draco really told you?”

“Yes.”

“Oh.”

“We tell each other everything,” Tom supplied, still not looking angry or hostile. “Didn’t Malfoy make that clear? So, what do you say? Heads’ Rooms?”

“Um. Okay. I suppose.” He stood up and followed Riddle out into the corridor.

Barely another word was spoken until a good forty minutes later, Hermione and Draco burst through the door.

“There you are, Harry!” Hermione exclaimed “Thank heavens!”

“Granger,” Draco said, “you’d best go and tell Weasley that Potter’s fine.”

Hermione nodded.

“Where is Ron?” a worried Harry asked from the bed. The earlier tension had lumbered him with a splitting headache, and Tom had suggested he could lie down and have a rest, something Harry had eventually done, once he’d realised that Riddle seemed more interested in his reading material than in his reluctant guest.

“Weasley went to check the Quidditch Pitch and then the lake,” Draco said.

“Um. Right.” Hermione turned to leave. “You will be fine, won’t you?” she asked Harry, directing a meaningful glance towards Tom and Draco.

“Yeah,” Harry said with a smile. “Don’t worry.”

“I’ll leave this here for you,” she said. She placed Harry’s wand on the chair by the door and promptly exited the room, in search of her boyfriend.

Draco walked over to Harry. He sat down next to him on the bed, while Tom picked up his book again and continued reading, his back turned towards the other two.

“How are you feeling?” Draco asked.

“All right, I think.”

“Need anything?”

Harry slowly shook his head.

Draco scooted a little closer. “For some reason, I don’t really believe you.”

“Well, I …”

“Come on,” he said softly and pulled Harry into his arms. “Let’s lie down for a bit.”

“Oh. Okay. But won’t he…” He bit his lip and made a vague hand gesture in Tom’s direction.

“No,” Draco whispered. “He won’t.”

They lay down on the bed, Harry hesitating for a moment before resting his head against Draco’s shoulder.

They’d been planning to meet at lunchtime. He thought it had to be around noon now, too, but he wasn’t sure. “I think I’ll skip class this afternoon,” he said to no one in particular. “It’s just Divination anyway.”

Draco chuckled. “No great loss.”

“No. How about you?”

“Study period, so I’ll be staying right here.”

Harry smiled and snuggled closer. All he could think was that this was at least as nice as last night’s impromptu snogging. Or maybe, in a way, it was even nicer. For some reason, Malfoy made him feel cherished. This was unexpected, but definitely not unwelcome. Harry closed his eyes and soon drifted off to sleep, no longer caring about the oddness of the situation or the fact that Tom Riddle was also in the room.

Hearing the soft snoring against his chest, Draco grinned. He reached up a hand and ran it through Harry’s thick, dark hair. “Hey Tom,” he whispered.

Tom turned around and clearly amused, shook his head at the sight before him. “Well, aren’t the two of you just sickeningly sweet?”

Draco raised a challenging eyebrow. “Jealous, are we, Riddle?”

“Hardly, Malfoy. I think we both know you’re mine first.”

Draco grinned, and then added in a more serious tone, “Potter seems exhausted, though.”

“Hm. He probably sleeps even less than you do. Best let him rest for a while.”

“Tom?”

“Yes?”

“What are we going to do now?”

Tom closed his book and placed it back on the desk. He walked over to the bed, sat down next to Draco and asked softly, “About what?”

He hesitated. “Pretty much everything?”

Tom smiled. “Well, first we try to find out how they’re planning to send me back to the past. Then we ensure that they fail. And then you complete your schooling and we get away from all this, start afresh.”

Draco sighed. “You make it sound so simple.”

“Isn’t it? Besides, if you play your cards right, we’ll have the cooperation of one the most powerful wizards around, even if he isn’t quite himself these days. Then again…” Tom grinned deviously. “Something tells me you might be able to help him with that.”

Draco gulped. He looked down at the sleeping boy in his arms. “You actually want to use Harry to…?”

“No, Draco. I don’t want to _use_ anyone. But think about it… Him being who he is… or at least who he might one day be again… It couldn’t hurt to have someone like that on our side, could it?”

“No,” Draco admitted reluctantly. “I suppose not, but…”

“You genuinely care about Scar Boy here, don’t you?”

His voice was barely a whisper. “Yes.”

“Then help him back on his feet and maybe he’ll help us in return.”

Draco bit his lip. “And what happens afterwards?”

“How do you mean?”

“When we leave Hogwarts.”

“Draco, you’re the one who inherited the gigantic mansion in Wiltshire. I suppose it’s up to you to decide whether or not you’d like a second guest, isn’t it?”

Draco let out the deep breath he’d been holding and smiled.


	17. A Truce Of Some Kind

Harry woke up feeling more rested and refreshed than he had felt in a long time. He sensed a comfortable warmth next to him and soon realised it was Malfoy.

No, it was _Draco._

Harry straightened his glasses and gave the boy whose arms he’d been sleeping in a closer look; Draco’s skin was porcelain pale. There were tiny light brown freckles scattered around his nose. His blond hair was tousled, and his lips were pink and moist and parted slightly.

Harry gulped. His mind drifted to all the things he longed to do in this very moment, if only he had the nerve, and of course, provided Riddle wasn’t in the room with them.

Unable to resist, he slowly trailed an index finger along Draco’s bottom lip.

“Pretty, isn’t he?” Tom said, not bothering to keep the amusement out of his voice.

Harry blushed. “Er… sure… yeah,” he stammered, unsure how to respond. The first thing that sprang to his mind, though, was that Draco wasn’t merely pretty; the boy looked positively delicious. This wasn’t something Harry could say to Tom, however – even if Tom didn’t seem to mind his boyfriend getting cosy with another bloke, and one he, himself, wasn’t particularly fond of, besides.

Draco opened his eyes. “Hello, Potter,” he whispered and gently kissed Harry on the lips. “By the way, thanks for refusing to duel me earlier. I don’t know what gets into Snape sometimes.”

“That bastard has always hated me,” Harry muttered bitterly. “Always. From the first second he set eyes on me.”

Draco said nothing. Instead, he kissed Harry again, slowly and longingly.

“You know,” Tom interjected with a grin, “if you two would prefer me to leave, you only have to ask.”

Draco turned his head around. He looked from Tom to Harry and back again, an unreadable expression on his face, while Harry just lay there quietly, wondering what was going to happen next.

Draco held out his hand. “Tom?” he said hesitantly.

Frowning, Tom rose from his chair, walked over to the bed and took the outstretched hand. “What is it?”

Draco stood up, threw his arms around Tom’s waist and kissed him in the same tender way he had just kissed Harry.

Tom responded with fervour. He found he didn’t mind Potter watching them any more than he'd minded watching Draco and Potter go at it. On the contrary, he soon realised that this was something of a turn-on too.

“Was there a point to that, Malfoy?” he asked when Draco pulled back again.

“Perhaps,” Draco said with a smirk. “What do you think, Harry?”

Tom looked at Harry, then, and he couldn’t help but notice that the boy seemed more than a little affected by what he’d just witnessed; his cheeks were flushed, his eyes wide, and all he could manage in response was a stammered, “W-Well, er-”

“Maybe you should kiss Potter now, Tom,” Draco suggested matter-of-factly as he sat back down. “Actually, when I think about it, it seems only fair that you do. After all, I didn’t get to play the spectator game yet.”

Two pairs of green eyes widened in shock. “Are you fucking serious?” Tom and Harry blurted out simultaneously.

“Certainly,” Draco said, a small, calculating grin playing around his mouth. "Any reason I wouldn’t be?”

“Now, Draco.” Tom laughed. “Far be it from me to deny you one of your fantasies, but I’d hate to scare our little hero here. I suspect I might be rather more than he can handle.”

Harry clenched his fists. Tom Riddle was fast getting on his nerves. He didn’t care how powerful that pompous git supposedly was, this infuriating, smug, superior attitude of his had to stop.

Right. Now.

“You’d be surprised at what I can handle, Riddle,” Harry spat. He leapt up, grabbed Tom by the shoulders and kissed him full on the lips. He didn’t stop there, either. Roughly, he shoved his tongue inside Tom’s mouth.

Tom responded instantly, and Harry soon found himself caught up in something that was more fighting than kissing, a world removed from the tender moments he had just shared with Draco, but still, that didn’t make it any less pleasurable or exciting or _intense_.

When he finally let go of Tom, they were both panting heavily, and more than a little shocked at the passion they had inadvertently evoked in each other.

“Fuck me,” Draco said dazedly, sifting a shaking hand through his hair. “You two… that was… bloody hell!”

Neither Harry nor Tom knew why this suddenly seemed so funny, but they both chuckled.

“You’re right,” Tom said. “It was.” He sat down on the bed, pulled Draco to him and they resumed their earlier kissing.

Harry bit his lip. He stood there motionless, staring at the young men on the bed. He had no idea what to do next. Completely caught up in each other, they seemed to have entirely forgotten he was even in the room. Fair enough, he supposed (after all, they were a couple first), but he still felt rejected, cast aside, and nothing at all like how he’d felt when he’d first woken up in Malfoy’s arms earlier.

Harry sighed and turned on his heel, ready to leave; his presence clearly wasn’t required any longer.

Then, however, Draco spoke again. “Harry, would you like to join us?”

Harry gulped. He turned around, and before he fully realised what he was doing, his feet were already taking him back in the direction of the bed. He sat down, moved into Draco’s arms and kissed him heatedly. Through lidded eyes, he could see how Tom went to sit behind Draco and started kissing a trail down the boy’s neck.

Harry had no idea what he was getting himself into, but he was quite sure he didn’t want to stop. Snogging Draco was the best thing in the world.  
Harry could see Tom’s hands wandering underneath Draco’s shirt, caressing the boy’s back, chest and stomach.

Draco let out a deep moan as Tom played with his nipples. Harry felt his own cock twitch in response.

“Let’s get you more comfortable,” Tom whispered. He slowly undid Draco’s trousers.

Harry paused for a moment and looked down. He inhaled sharply when Tom’s right hand wrapped itself around Draco’s erection. Were the three of them actually doing this? How far were they going to go? And shouldn't he be worried that he wasn’t the least bit scared, not at all nervous anymore? Was he finally losing his mind?

“Keep kissing him, Potter,” Tom instructed. “He loves to kiss.”

Harry gladly complied.

He could feel Draco increase his grip on his shoulders, cling to him fiercely as Tom sped up his movements and continued kissing and nipping Draco’s neck.

Harry didn’t think he’d ever seen anything more erotic than the look on Draco’s face in that very moment, or heard a more enticing sound than that little whimper Draco made whenever Tom touched him just _there_ and almost drove him to the edge—-almost, but not quite, because clearly Tom liked to tease his lover a little. Harry wasn't really surprised.

Soon, their kisses turned more feverish, more urgent. Harry’s heart was jumping in his throat, not to mention how other parts of him were reacting. At this rate, he was going to come in his pants, untouched. The onslaught of sensations was overwhelming and amazing. He moaned against Draco’s mouth.

Draco responded with a deep moan of his own, before he started to thrust into Tom’s hand frantically, never letting go of Harry, never stopping their desperate kissing.

And then, much too soon, it was over. Draco cried out in climax. “Oh God,” he whispered, slumping down against Harry. “Oh fuck.”

Tom chuckled. “So, Draco, was this what you had in mind when you asked Potter to join us?”

“Well,” Draco admitted, still catching his breath, “maybe not initially, but… I’d be lying if I said I hadn't been hoping for something like this.”

Tom smiled. “Now, if you two don’t mind, there’s something I need to take care of as well. Unless you’d like to do it for me, Draco?”

Before Draco could reply, Harry blurted out, “I’ll do it”, surprising them all.

Draco frowned. “I thought you said you didn’t have any experience with…”

“I don’t,” Harry said quickly, “but I still want to do this.”

“Why?”

Harry bit his lip. Finally, he said, “Er... I guess I’m just curious.”

Tom laughed. “Curious and hard as hell too, I expect.” He unbuttoned his trousers. “All right, Potter, go right ahead. I’m all yours, but no funny business.”

“No, of course not,” Harry said softly. With slightly trembling hands, he took out Tom’s cock and started to stroke it in the same way he liked to touch his own.

“That’s it, Potter,” Tom said. “Just a little more pressure.”

Harry nodded. He was sure that this was very wrong in many ways, but at the same time, it also felt incredibly wonderful, and oddly enough, what he was presently doing gave him a strange sense of power too. Here he was, reducing Tom Riddle to a moaning, panting, whimpering mess who was practically begging for more. This was definitely a lot more gratifying than fighting with him.

“Yes, Potter, right _there_,” came another strangled whisper, “and a little harder… fuck, yes, exactly like that… you’re a fast learner… oh…”

And then Tom’s cock was pulsing in Harry’s hand, leaving Harry mesmerised by the sight, and quite desperate for release, himself.

Tom sank back into the pillows, and Draco, who’d been watching them open-mouthed, instantly snapped out of his trance. He grabbed Harry’s arm. “Come on,” he said. “Your turn, Potter.” He gently pushed Harry down onto the bed and carefully unzipped the boy’s trousers.

Harry lay back and took a deep breath. He shivered in anticipation.

Soon, he realised two things.

Firstly, Draco was using his mouth, not his hand, to pleasure him (and Sweet Merlin, did it ever feel amazing), and secondly, Draco was touching himself, too, slowly stroking his own cock that was already rock hard again.

Moaning, Harry reached his hands down and tangled his fingers in Draco’s hair. “So soft,” he whispered. “And what you’re… Oh God... yes, Draco… yes… This feels so bloody good…”

Harry closed his eyes. He threw his head back. He could feel Draco pushing his hips down with his free hand because they were bucking almost uncontrollably as Harry tried to thrust in and out of that warm, wet mouth. The thought of Malfoy wanking drove him wild. He also knew that Riddle was watching them intensely, and probably getting off on this, too.

Harry moaned. “Guh. Faster, Draco, please… faster…”

Draco increased the pressure on Harry’s dick as well as the pace of his movements, and then, without warning, Harry came, letting out a strangled cry and shooting his release down Draco’s throat.

Draco wasn’t far behind. Harry's cock slipped from his mouth as the intensity of his orgasm took him by surprise. His pleasure spent, he collapsed next to Harry, breathing hard.

“I’ll just go and freshen up,” Tom announced. He got up and headed for the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

Grinning, Draco reached for his wand and spelled the mess away. “You know, Harry,” he said, still sounding somewhat breathless, “I was planning to take things a lot slower. What we did just now wasn’t exactly… I mean, things didn’t go too far for you too quickly, did they?”

Harry smiled. “I don’t regret what we just did, if that’s what you mean.”

“Good. Me neither.” Draco ran a hand through Harry’s hair. “It was bloody amazing,” he added softly and sounded almost shy, all of a sudden.

“Yeah.” Harry snuggled closer. “Why did Tom leave?”

“I guess he wanted to give us some time alone to talk, or cuddle.”

“Not the cuddling type himself, is he?” Harry asked. He already knew the answer to that question, of course. After all, he’d seen Draco and Tom together, being surprisingly affectionate with one another. Still, he was compelled to ask.

Draco smiled. “Just give him some time. He’ll come around.”

“Um…” Harry hesitated.

“What? Don’t you want to do this again?” Draco asked, his directness surprising them both.

“Well, yeah. But…”

“But what?”

“I…”

“What, Harry?” Draco kissed him again, slowly and seductively, hoping to get him to talk. He was well aware that this was a form of manipulation in a way, but he didn’t have any qualms. He wanted Harry Potter. He’d wanted him for ages. And he wanted Tom Riddle, too. The best of both worlds. And it might just be possible, if what had just happened here—-between Tom and Harry too—was any sort of indication.

“It’s just… I was hoping I could get to know you a little better, too,” Harry said. “Not only… you know, do… er… physical stuff.”

Draco suppressed a chuckle. “Is that all? Of course you can get to know me a little better. And Tom too, while you’re at it, if you’d like?”

Harry nodded slowly.

“Anyway,” Draco went on, “maybe you should go back to Gryffindor Tower and freshen up for dinner, before rumours start circulating that Tom and I have kidnapped or killed you, or worse ”

Harry grinned. “Yeah, maybe I should.” He gave Draco another quick kiss on the lips. “See you later?”

“Yes, I’m sure you will,” Draco replied with an impossibly smug grin.

Harry got up, and on his way to the door, he almost bumped squarely into Tom, who was just coming out of the bathroom. “Running off already, Potter?” he asked, looking amused. “Without even a goodbye kiss for me? How very disappointing.”

Harry rolled his eyes. He flung his arms around Tom and kissed him softly on the lips. “There,” he said and realised that he really didn’t mind doing that; things were perfectly fine like this.

When Harry returned to the Tower that afternoon, it was with a spring in his step that hadn’t been there in a long time.

* * *

At dinnertime, the Great Hall was buzzing with excited chatter about the duel that had never happened and Harry Potter who had willingly surrendered to Draco Malfoy; worse than that, he hadn’t even put up a fight.

Once again, the students as well as certain members of staff found themselves wondering whether Harry was feeling altogether himself.

When Harry finally walked into the room, looking happy and relaxed, all eyes were immediately upon him. Feeling terribly self-conscious all of a sudden, he quickly made his way to the Gryffindor table and sat down. Ron and Hermione smiled at him reassuringly.

He hadn’t told them any details of his time spent with Tom and Draco—-doing so would have been embarrassing and extremely awkward—but he had made it clear that a truce of sorts had been called and that they needn’t worry about any more fights in future.

Harry assumed that Riddle and Draco were kind of his friends now, or at least no longer his enemies after everything they had shared.

He hoped he wasn’t mistaken.

Meanwhile, many students continued to stare. Some of the younger ones even started to point and snigger.

Harry cringed.

Suddenly, Tom rose from his chair and tapped his spoon against his soup dish. “Your attention, please,” he spoke in a loud, authoritative voice. “You may be interested to learn that Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter have decided to settle their differences. Anyone who attempts to rekindle any past hostility between them will be reported to the school authorities for stirring up trouble and potentially endangering the safety of the whole student body. That is all.”

With that, he sat down again.

A deadly silence fell over the Great Hall. Not even Snape or McGonagall uttered a word, and it took a good five minutes before everyone went back to their meal.

“Thanks,” Draco said and placed his hand over Tom’s.

Tom just nodded.

At the Gryffindor table, Harry turned around. He felt very awkward and uncertain about doing so, and hesitated for a full forty-three seconds, but then he gave Tom a grateful smile.

When Tom winked in response, Harry turned away quickly, fervently hoping that no one would notice his furious blush.


	18. Temporary And Eternal

That night, Harry was unable to get Draco and Tom out of his head, and every time his musings inadvertently drifted back to those two, his stomach fluttered and adrenalin coursed through his veins, in the end leaving him far too riled up to still get a wink of sleep. After a good ninety minutes of tossing and turning, he gave up and aimlessly wandered through the dark Hogwarts corridors again.

He hadn’t planned to run into Tom Riddle, not in the least, but on the other hand, all things considered, he was rather pleased when he did.

After all, life was very different now.

“Well, Potter,” Tom greeted him. “Care to tell me what you’re up to, stalking around the castle after curfew _yet_ again? I highly doubt Professor Snape would approve.”

“I could ask you the same thing, you know,” Harry retorted with a grin. “And in case you’ve failed to notice, Snape never approves; I’m not sure he’s even capable of such a thing.”

“You may be on to something there.” Tom laughed. “If you must know, Potter, I’ve taken over Draco’s Head Boy patrol this evening.”

Harry frowned. “Draco’s all right, isn’t he?”

“Yes, Potter. He’s fine. He retired early because he badly needed to catch up on rest.”

Harry gave him a puzzled look.

“Nightmares, remember?” Tom explained. “He doesn’t sleep nearly enough, you realise.”

“I know the feeling,” Harry muttered bitterly.

Tom crossed his arms. He wanted to say something—anything—to possibly reassure or perhaps comfort Harry, but he soon thought the better of it. After all, in spite of everything that had happened between them a few hours ago, strictly speaking, they weren’t exactly friends yet.

“Is there anything I can do to help him?” Harry asked. He hoped the words sounded as sincere as he wanted them to.

“Well, now that you come to mention it, Potter,” Tom said. “There _is_ one thing. It’s rather complicated, however…”

“Too complicated for me to be able to wrap my puny brain around, you mean?” Harry snapped, and instantly regretted it. When would he finally learn to control that nasty temper of his? All it ever accomplished was to get him into trouble, and generally with people he should know better than to antagonise in the first place.

Tom, thankfully, didn’t take the bait this time. “That’s not what I meant, Harry,” he said instead, purposely keeping his voice even. “It’s complicated because it concerns the matter of me being forced to return to my own time, a nasty predicament Draco and myself are hoping to be able to avoid.”

“Oh,” Harry said. “Right.”

“Yes. In a nutshell, if they do decide to send me back, Potter, and we don’t figure out some way to ruin their plans, just imagine how Draco’s going to feel.” Tom took a few steps closer and placed his hands on Harry’s shoulders. “A few weeks ago, he was still a miserable wreck. You wouldn’t want to see him reduced to such a pitiful state again, would you?”

Harry bit his bottom lip and shook his head slowly. At that very moment, he didn’t know how he felt about Mal- Draco, he had yet to analyse and define his changed feelings for his former rival, but he certainly didn’t want to cause the boy any further distress. Draco had been deeply hurt far too many times already.

“Besides,” Tom went on, reaching up a hand and running it through Harry’s unruly hair. "Correct me if I’m wrong, but you're not exactly opposed to my affections either, are you, Potter?"

"Well, er-" Harry muttered, sensing another furious blush coming on, _damn it_. “No.“

“Well, then.” Tom grinned, having a little trouble hiding his smugness completely. “We’ll find a way for me to remain here and then we can all live happily ever after."

"_We?_" Harry’s eyes widened.

"Yes, Potter. The three of us: you and me and Draco."

“Di-Did Draco actually say that?” Harry blurted out. “Is that what he wants?” His head was reeling. Everything was moving very fast. A few weeks ago, Tom and Draco had still loathed him unconditionally, and now… Now it seemed that they were offering him… well, whatever it was, it looked to be something long-term, something lasting, a possible future. Harry swallowed hard.

Tom smiled. He was a little disappointed that he couldn’t read Harry’s mind, but then again, he hardly needed to. The look on Potter’s face spoke volumes. “Harry.” Tom finally broke the thick silence. “Draco mightn’t appreciate me disclosing this to you, but the truth is that he’s had a thing for you for quite a while. For years, in fact. What happened between the three of us earlier, it wasn’t just a bit of fun for him, if that’s what you’d gathered.”

“No, I- I mean-“

“Yes?”

Harry took a deep breath. “I really do like him,” he admitted, “and I don’t… I mean, what I’m trying to say, I’m not the type of person who just… messes around with people at all. You know, _ever_.”

“Indeed,” Tom said smugly. “So I take it that’s a yes? You’ll help me… and Draco?”

Harry nodded. “Yeah, sure, but what can I do, exactly?”

“Right,” Tom began, “it’s like this…”

* * *

Careful not to make a sound, Tom climbed into bed, feeling rather pleased with himself.

It had been an unexpectedly productive evening. He had finally found a place to start looking for answers. Potter’s Marauder’s Map had turned out to be a most wonderful, useful thing. It had showed them a room with a figure in front of it, unidentifiable, but clearly in the process of standing watch. With any luck, being sent home would soon be a worry of the past.

“You’re finally back,” Draco murmured sleepily as he snuggled closer to his boyfriend. “Whatever took you so long?”

“I ran into Scarboy,” Tom said and tenderly kissed Draco’s forehead.

Draco sighed. “Would you kindly stop calling him that?”

“I’m sorry, Draco.” Tom flashed him a grin which revealed he was nothing of the sort. “So, aren’t you even a little bit curious to learn what happened?”

“You probably snogged him within an inch of his life,” Draco said and gave an exaggerated sigh. “Without me, which wasn’t terribly considerate of you.”

“No.” Tom laughed. “Guess again. Really. You and your one-track mind, Malfoy. As it turns out, Po- Harry has promised to help us.”

“He-He has?”

Tom nodded. “Absolutely. I’ll explain the finer details to you in the morning. First, you need to get a few more hours of sleep.”

“Bu-“ Draco wanted to argue, very badly, but he was really too exhausted to. So he gave in and merely whispered, “All right. Fine. Good night, Tom. And thanks.”

Not before long, Tom could hear Draco’s soft, regular snoring, and he smiled. Things were at last looking up. Or so he hoped.

Of course, Tom hadn’t told Harry Potter the whole story. He wasn’t doing this for Draco’s sake alone. The sad truth of the matter was that Tom didn’t have a single thing to return to, nothing that came anywhere near to what he’d found here. Nothing but immense loneliness awaited him back in that place that was only technically his home.

Tom had also failed to mention to Potter that he had become deeply fond of Draco, that the boy evoked feelings in him that he hadn’t even thought himself capable of. At the end of the day, Tom probably needed Draco just as badly as Draco needed him, and the only kind of life Tom could imagine without the blond Slytherin was one that was cold, miserable and meaningless.

So if the alternative meant having Harry Potter in the picture as well, Tom supposed it would be a small price to pay. And besides, Potter had his advantages too, and in his own bumbling way, the daft git could be rather endearing.

Tom grinned.

* * *

“All right, Harry,” Hermione said. She sat down on the sofa in the Room of Requirement and gestured to her friend to do the same. “So tell me, what is this all about? What do you want to ask _me_ that you can’t ask Ron as well, and at this ghastly hour of the morning too?”

Harry swallowed hard. “Well,” he began, “you see, there’s something Tom really needs to know…”

“Tom?” Hermione remarked pointedly. “You mean Tom _Riddle_? So the two of you have actually become friends now? Are helping one another, even? This goes beyond a simple truce, then?”

“Well-“ Not entirely unexpected, Harry felt himself blush once more.

Hermione crossed her arms. “What exactly is going on, Harry?” she demanded with a frown. “What are you up to?”

Harry took a deep breath and decided that, all things considered, perhaps coming clean would be the smartest course of action. After all, Hermione was bound to uncover the truth sooner or later anyway—she always did in the end—-and he’d really prefer her to find out directly from him than to have to draw her own conclusions.

“Well, um, you see, Draco and… Um, we’re involved,” he mumbled, afraid to meet her eyes.

“Pardon? You mean you and Draco are involved, or you and Tom?”

“No-No,” Harry stammered. “Neither. Well, no, that’s not… what I mean to say is: both.”

“Both?” She turned ghostly pale. “You’re involved with both of them? Do they know about one another?“

Harry blushed even harder and started shuffling his feet, fervently hoping that he wouldn’t be expected to explain this in more detail because he honestly didn’t think he’d be able to. It would be far too awkward and embarrassing, especially to a girl. “You er- could say that,” he finally stammered. “I mean, it would be kind of hard for them er- not to know. You see, the three of us…” He took a deep breath.

“Harry.” Hermione’s eyes widened as she at last understood what her friend was trying to tell her, and it wasn’t anything even she could have anticipated. Only a few days ago, Harry was still full of hate towards the world in general and those two in particular, and now, all of a sudden… “So the _three_ of you are involved?” she asked carefully. “You’re in some kind of… _triad_?”

Harry nodded slowly. He hadn’t given the relationship (or whatever it was) a name yet, but he supposed ‘triad’ worked. “Yeah, something like that.”

“Oh my goodness!” Hermione exclaimed. “You know what that means, don’t you?”

“Um-”

“Ron’s going to have a fit first and a heart attack later! Do not, under any circumstances, mention this to him before I do, which won’t be anytime soon, believe me. Good Lord, _Harry_, the things you end up doing…”

“Um-”

“Right.” She took a deep, calming breath and slowly counted to ten, mentally filing what she’d just learned away for later processing—_much_ later processing, she told herself. “So what do you need my help with, exactly?”

“Okay. Well, there’s this room on the fifth floor. It’s being guarded by an elf or a goblin or some other non-human being, and we- Well, Tom thinks the school staff might be hiding something in there, a Time Turner or some such.”

“There are no more Time Turners in existence, Harry,” Hermione stated matter-of-factly, relieved beyond words at the opportunity to move on to a more comfortable topic of conversation.

“As far as we know,” he remarked flatly.

She decided to ignore that. “So if I understand you correctly, you would like me to investigate this room?”

“No, I’ll take care of that part myself. I just need someone to keep watch or to distract the guard or to cause a diversion or… _something_. If Tom or Draco did that, it would be too suspicious. Besides, I’m convinced someone is keeping a close eye on them, probably Snape.”

“I see.”

“So, um, would you help us?”

Hermione took a deep breath and thought things over for a few long minutes. “Are you absolutely, one hundred percent, certain that this is what you want, Harry?” she asked carefully. “For Tom to stay, that is? Have you considered- I mean, you _are_ completely certain that he isn’t just taking advantage of you, aren’t you? That this isn’t some plan he’s cooked up with Draco just so that the two of them can stay here, together, and drop you like a hot potato once you’re no longer of any use to them?”

“Um-“ Harry fidgeted nervously in his seat. “To be honest, I have no idea how Tom feels about me at the moment. I suppose we’re friends, sort of, but Draco- Draco, he-” Harry gave a goofy smile, and went on to ask, “Have you ever had the feeling, Hermione, that there was something missing in your life, but you didn’t realise it was even missing until it was actually there? I mean, at the risk of sounding like a sappy git, that’s more or less how I feel when I’m with him…”

Hermione smiled. “Yes, it was the same way with Ron and me,” she said softly. “All of a sudden, everything just seemed to fall into place.”

“Yeah,” Harry agreed and Hermione had to admit that her friend looked happier than she had seen him in many years.

“Very well, Harry,” she finally said, “if you’re absolutely sure.” She took a deep breath. “So, is there anything else that you could tell me about that room?”


	19. Slide

"So, Severus, I take it you are satisfied with what you've discovered?" Minerva remarked pointedly, as she buttered her toast.

"In a fashion," Snape replied dryly. “The outcome could have been far worse, at any rate.”

"Perhaps,” Remus interjected, “but I still feel Harry’s wand was returned to him a little too soon. Overall, the boy still seems… out of sorts.”

“Oh?” Minerva frowned. "He appears to be responding favourably to his treatment, though, or have I been misinformed?"

"Yes, he’s doing better, but nonetheless…" Remus coughed. “To be quite frank, Minerva, I’m not sure whether Harry _befriending_ Draco Malfoy is all that healthy for either of them, and that’s assuming those boys only have friendship on their minds.”

“Are you suggesting, Lupin,” Snape enquired, one eyebrow raised in amusement, “that Harry Potter prefers the company of men these days? How… unexpected. He seemed rather enamoured with Miss Weasley not so long ago, did he not? And I believe I heard something about him and Miss Chang being an item, too; in his fifth year, I believe.”

“There is such a thing as bisexuality,” Remus pointed out with an annoyed shake of his head. “Not to mention that your knowledge about someone you profess to despise is nothing short of astounding, Severus.”

“Know thy enemy, Lupin,” Snape retorted sardonically. “A piece of advice you would have done well to remember, keeping in mind that very unfortunate incident last year, when…“

“Gentlemen,” Minerva interrupted them sharply, ending a huge argument before it even began. “Let’s stick to the subject at hand, shall we? So Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy are getting along now?”

“It would appear that way,” Snape said.

She smiled. “That might go a long way to lift both their spirits, and furthermore, it could prove to be a good thing for the school’s morale.”

“Perhaps,” Snape conceded. “Nonetheless, there is also the issue of Mister Riddle to be taken care of. Under no circumstances must that boy remain here.”

Minerva sighed. The more she thought about it, the more strongly she disagreed with that statement, but judging by the nods Severus received, she was clearly outnumbered, if not entirely alone with that point of view.

* * *

“Is this seat taken?” Hermione asked Draco.

He shook his head. “Tom doesn’t take this class, as I’m sure you’ve already noticed. Be my guest.”

“Thanks.” She smiled and sat down next to him. “Very few people are interested in this subject, I suppose.”

“Well, admittedly, it can get rather boring.”

She shrugged. “An extra grade is an extra grade, isn’t it?”

“My sentiments exactly,” he said, sounding quite smug. “And whoever thought that you and I would actually agree on something some day, Granger? Life around here just gets more and more intriguing all the time, doesn’t it?”

“Um, Malfoy,” Hermione said. “Before the Professor comes in…”

“Yes?”

She lowered her voice. “Harry told me about- well, that room. We’ll be trying to get in tomorrow morning, very early, to investigate what it’s all about. Do you have any idea when…”

“When they’re going to try to send Tom back?” he finished for her.

She nodded.

“No, not a clue. Hopefully whatever’s in that room will help us figure that out, too. It’s what we’re counting on, at any rate.”

“We can only keep our fingers crossed.” She frowned. “One more thing, though…”

“Yes?”

“Look…” She took a deep breath. “I don’t want to have any bad blood. I mean”—she flinched at her unfortunate choice of words—”I don’t want us to be at odds with one another again, but I do hope you understand that I _have_ to ask this, Draco. I mean, I can’t _not_. After all, he’s my best friend…”

“Spit it out, Granger,” he said, not bothering to hide his irritation.

“You and Tom, you aren’t intending to hurt Harry anymore, are you? I mean, he told me you…“

Draco grinned in a way Hermione considered to be far too devious. “What did he tell you?”

She coughed. “That the three of you are…um…involved now.”

Draco chuckled softly at her obvious awkwardness, and the mental image of Harry Potter stammering his way through an explanation for his changed relationship with not one but two of his former enemies.

“Aren’t you?” she asked sternly, not in the mood for some infuriating Slytherin mind game.

“Yes, we are, Granger. Of course it’s early days yet, but the… _relationship_ has potential.”

Ignoring the smug look on his face, she went on, “So you can promise me that you’ll never harm him ever again?”

“Yes,” Draco replied simply and as she gave him another beseeching look, he added, “Listen, I’d swear it to you on the Malfoy honour, but I doubt anyone around here would take such a statement seriously, least of all you, so I guess you’ll just have to take my word for this, Granger; I wouldn’t hurt Harry, not anymore.”

Her eyes widened. “You called him Harry.”

Draco shrugged. “Well, it’s his _name_, isn’t it?”

Hermione opened her mouth to speak again, but just then, the teacher walked in, so she decided to save the rest of the conversation for another day. She already knew what she’d wanted to find out, or at least she hoped she did.

* * *

Tom looked around him to make sure that the coast was clear, before he walked over to another bookshelf. Then, much to his astonishment, he bumped into something—or rather, someone—he hadn’t been able to detect.

Acting quickly and without even the slightest bit of hesitation, he grabbed hold of the invisible person and pushed him or her down to the ground, ready to deliver a few punches or at the very least a hard-hitting hex.

“Stop! Wait!” a panicked voiced protested. The rustling of heavy fabric could be heard as a familiar face was revealed.

“Harry Potter,” Tom said, amused. “Of course. I should have known.”

“Er-” Nervously, Harry looked up at the boy who was pinning him to the floor. “I, er, came here to look for books on time travel and shifting between dimensions and er, things.”

Tom smiled. “That makes two of us, then,” he remarked, enjoying the effect their proximity was having on the young man beneath him. Harry’s face was flushed and his chest was heaving with something that definitely wasn’t panic.

Tom wondered if Potter realised how glaringly obvious he was being—probably not. “Maybe we can look together?” he suggested. “After all, two minds are better than one, _Harry_.”

“Er- Um, yeah, okay.”

“Not just yet, though,” Tom whispered huskily, unable to resist. He leaned down a little further and kissed Harry on the lips.

Harry responded immediately and not unlike the last time, Tom found himself thinking that Potter was in a league of his own when it came to kissing. The boy always started off all shy and uncertain—slightly awkward, even—but once he got over himself, his bold enthusiasm fast turned breathtaking—literally.

_Interesting paradox,_ Tom thought as he tangled his fingers in dark, wild hair that was much softer than it looked.

Harry moaned. Somewhere at the back of his mind, he knew he should probably stop. Here he was, in the Restricted Section with Tom Riddle on top of him, kissing him for all he was worth. Anyone could walk in on them at any given time.

No, this really wasn’t a terribly smart thing to do. For starters, he was already in enough trouble with the school authorities as it was.

Then again, the librarian and her assistant generally took tea at this time of day—Harry had noticed as much during past excursions in search of other forbidden literature—-while his friends were in class or at Quidditch practice, and aside from Hermione, none of them would come here voluntarily anyway.

Harry inhaled sharply and kissed Tom again, eagerly wrapping his arms around him, pulling him closer. Even through the thick school robes, Harry could feel their twin erections pressing against each other urgently.

Tom attacked Harry’s left ear and then Harry’s neck with kisses (or were they bites?) and all Harry could think was that this felt far too good to stop, consequences be damned.

“Do you want to come?”

“What?“ Harry’s eyebrows shot up at the directness of the question. Weren’t Slytherins supposed to be a lot more subtle than this?

“A ‘yes’ or a ‘no’ will suffice,” Tom said, sounding a lot more composed than he actually felt. “We don’t have all that much time, you know.” He turned his full attention back to Harry’s neck, sucking at the pulse point as he continued grinding his hips up and down, causing their hard, clothed cocks to rub against each other.

“Yes,” Harry gasped out before he realised it. “God, _yes._”

“All right. Ever done it like this before?”

“No,” Harry said with ragged breath. “I’ve never, well, done anything, really, not before you and Draco… um…”

Tom grinned. “Not to worry, just follow my lead.”

“Okay.”

Harry started bucking his hips up and down, too, meeting Tom’s movements thrust for thrust, all the while moaning a little too loudly because he simply couldn’t stop himself.

While he was still coherent enough to do so, Tom quickly cast a wandless muffling charm. Harry wrapped his legs around Tom to further increase the incredible friction.

“You’re a fast learner, Potter,” Tom said with a devious chuckle. “I’m impressed.”

“Shut up,” Harry said without malice and with no purpose at all, other than to mask the fact that he remained somewhat shy about interacting with Tom on certain levels, even if being physical with the boy felt like the most natural thing in the world and Harry’s body just kept screaming for more.

As if he could read Harry’s mind, Tom sped up his movements even further. Harry gladly followed. Not another coherent word was spoken as they thrust frantically against one another, just moans and sighs and the occasional broken “Ah… _yes_.”

For a moment, Harry wondered if Draco would be all right with this if he knew, but he was really too far gone already to give the matter a whole lot of thought. He felt the familiar heat start to coil within him, and after one more hard thrust, he came hard.

Not before long, Tom groaned and threw his head back as he, too, flew over the edge.

They lay next to each other in the aisle for a few moments, as long as it took for them to catch their breaths.

Tom muttered a cleaning spell for them both, got up, held out his hand and helped Harry to his feet. “There,” he said, “now hopefully we can concentrate on our reading material without getting too distracted.”

“Distracted.” Harry chuckled. Spontaneously, he pressed a sloppy kiss against Tom’s cheek and reached out to squeeze the boy’s hand. “Right.”

Tom shook his head in amusement. If he were entirely truthful with himself, he had to admit that Potter looked and acted rather adorable in this disheveled state. He was almost beginning to understand what Draco saw in the silly Gryffindor. Almost.

Tom retrieved a heavy book from a shelf and started to skim through it, searching for any references to time travel.

A few feet to Tom’s left, Harry Potter did the same.

* * *

“So, what’s Potter blushing about now?” Draco asked Tom as a flustered looking Harry walked into the Great Hall, sending a goofy grin in their direction.

“He and I did some research in the Restricted Section earlier,” Tom said casually, but the expression on his face revealed that something decidedly less academic had also taken place.

“Research.” Draco smirked. “Is that what they’re calling it these days?”

Tom laughed. “You don’t mind, do you?”

Draco shrugged. “If you and Potter are sharing me, I suppose Potter and I might as well share you also.”

“Yes, I was rather hoping you’d see it that way.”

“So…” Draco took a swig of his pumpkin juice and asked pleasantly, “You shagged him against a bookshelf, then?”

“No, not quite. I’m saving that for you.”

“You’re going to shag _me_ against a bookshelf?” Draco asked, waggling his eyebrows. “Promises, promises. When and which one?”

“Actually, I was referring to taking Harry Potter’s virginity. Unless that isn’t something you’re interested in.”

“Oh, I’ve only been interested since fourth year,” Draco replied, causing Tom to grin again. “Ever since I saw him hanging around with that skinny Ravenclaw wench.”

“What are you boys talking about?” a chirpy voice interrupted them.

They looked up to see Luna Lovegood standing there. “It’s all right if I sit here, isn’t it? Greg won’t be long. He’s helping Professor Sprout with some very nasty Squirming Ivy… It’s odd, you know. It’s almost like there’s something in the air that makes the plants act a lot more _edgy_ than usual.”

“Really?” Tom said. “And please, certainly, do take a seat.”

“Thank you.” She beamed and sat down across from them. “So, what were you two discussing?”

“Harry Potter,” Draco replied, his tone carefully neutral.

Luna smiled brightly. “He looked very happy this morning, almost like the old Harry again. He wasn’t always bitter and… well… a bit of a challenge to get along with, you know, but the boy’s been through a lot, and sometimes…“

“Yes, go on,” Tom urged, clearly fascinated. “Sometimes…?”

“Sometimes it was almost like he had this chill around his heart, a coldness to his aura, but now… he’s warming to people and to life again. Maybe he’s found love? Love is a wonderful thing. It can ease so much pain, restore so much shattered hope….” She trailed off, smiling wistfully.

Tom rolled his eyes, suppressing the urge to burst out laughing, but soon frowned when he received a well-aimed kick under the table from Draco.

Luna turned to look at the boy who came walking towards them; Gregory Goyle looked every bit like someone who had just spent two hours wrestling with violent shrubbery. Luna didn’t seem to mind his unusually shabby appearance, however, if her adoring gaze was anything to go by.

Tom stole another glance at the Gryffindor table and saw Harry laugh at something Hermione said. “Maybe we should ask him to spend tonight with us, Draco,” he suggested offhandedly. “It’d make it easier for him and Granger to sneak off, first thing tomorrow morning.“

“Yes.” Draco smirked. “Not to mention the other possible benefits.”

“Indeed.”

“I’ll suggest it to him in Potions.”

Tom grinned. “Excellent. I do like the way you think.”


	20. Bouncing Off Clouds

“We are already in the process of changing history,” Tom said, crossing his arms in front of him. “The course of history began to change the very second I arrived here. Just look, the evidence is all around us. The wheels have been set in motion. If you ask me, Snape’s reasons for wanting to send me back are a load of rubbish. Most likely, my presence simply makes him uncomfortable, or he wants to prevent me from becoming another Dark Lord in his time, though, frankly, such ambitions are just about the last thing on my mind.”

Hearing this, Draco smiled, but Harry asked with a frown, “What evidence?”

Tom smirked. “Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed, Potter: shrubbery turning aggressive and attacking students out of the blue? Not to mention orbs and mirrors and even a large window of one of the greenhouses shattering into a thousand pieces for no good reason?"

"Yeah, but I thought…” He gasped. "You mean _we_'re the ones causing all that?"

“That’s our theory, yes,” Draco supplied, and he added with a near-predatory grin, “And to think we haven’t even shagged you yet, Harry.”

“Er…“ Harry wrung his hands awkwardly. He wondered, not for the first time, when exactly bluntness had become a Slytherin trait.

“Don’t worry, we won’t do anything you don’t want us to.” Draco grinned. “And all daftness aside, we really _should_ talk first.”

“Right,” Tom agreed. “So, let’s recap, shall we? If what you discover tomorrow, Harry, is an artifact or a potion, we will have to come up with some way to destroy it by the day after tomorrow, which is a Hogsmeade weekend and should give us plenty of opportunity to move around the castle unnoticed.”

“And if we can’t think of anything by then?”

“We’ll keep looking for an alternative.”

“Right.”

“So far,” Tom went on, “we haven’t found any time travel spells yet, so there must be something else in that room, something they need in order to send me back. My first guess would be a Time Turner, but if Granger’s absolutely certain that there aren’t any more of those around…”

Harry nodded. “She is. But… Aren’t you two worried, though?” he asked after a few minutes of contemplative silence.

Tom frowned. “Worried about what?”

“The consequences,” Harry replied. “Even if the wheels have been set in motion like you said, if we suddenly sped things up, wouldn’t that—I mean, couldn’t that get pretty dangerous?”

“Honestly? If I can’t have Tom here with me, then I might as well not be around anymore at all,” Draco said flatly.

“That’s a bit… radical, isn’t it?” Harry asked, shocked.

Draco glared. “You still don’t quite grasp what my life has been like these past few years, do you, Potter? If I have to go back to even a fraction of that, death seems a far more preferable option.”

“But….“ Harry bit his lip. He felt like saying something along the lines of ‘you’ll still have me’, but decided against it. It didn’t seem very appropriate, with Tom also present in the room, and besides, Harry realised full well how much Tom meant to Draco. After all, he’d seen it with his own eyes, the obvious love and affection between them.

“Come on, you two,” Tom interjected. “Don’t start arguing again. The three of us have to pull together on this or it’ll never work.”

“Right,” Draco said, and inhaled sharply. “Sorry.”

Harry nodded. “It’s fine.” He reached out and placed a hand over Draco’s. He was relieved when Draco linked their fingers and gave him a small smile in return.

“So, the possible consequences,” Tom went on. “For one, we might unleash a wave of strange and powerful ancient magic. This could turn out to be rather educational and quite fascinating to watch, right up to the point where people start getting killed, of course.”

“Bloody hell, he almost sounds like Granger,” Draco muttered, causing Harry to chuckle.

“I heard that,” Tom pointed out.

“Sorry,” Draco said with a grin. “Go on.”

Harry leaned over and kissed Draco on the cheek, the earlier aggravation between them already forgotten.

Tom shook his head in amusement. “Kindly pay attention, turtledoves. Another thing that might happen is that we suddenly find ourselves in another dimension.”

“Another dimension?” Draco rolled his eyes. “How positively... _Muggle_.”

“Yeah, that’s almost like something out of ‘The Twilight Zone’,” Harry agreed.

“The _what_?” Tom and Draco asked in unison.

Harry shrugged. “Some American sci-fi series Aunt Petunia used to watch on the telly.”

Draco smirked. “As I said, _Muggle_.”

Tom shrugged, still not understanding what the other two were talking about. “Either way,” he continued, “the final and most daunting option is that too much magic ends up being unleashed at once and causes some kind of meltdown, but honestly, I don’t think that would happen. I highly doubt whether Snape would risk it.”

“Right,” Harry said, but he didn’t look at all convinced. He knew Severus Snape only too well, and he wouldn’t want to place any bets on the lengths that man would go to just to get his way.

“So, is everyone in agreement that we’ll be going through with this?” Tom asked the others.

Draco nodded determinedly.

Harry sighed. “I suppose I don’t really have anything left to lose.”

Which was true enough. Technically, he was no longer needed by anyone else, either. Ron and Hermione had each other, Ginny was very happy with Blaise Zabini, and as for everyone else, they’d certainly make do without him as well.

“So, yes, I think we ought to do this,” he said at last.

Tom smiled. “That’s settled, then.”

“Hm,” Draco muttered.

His pensive expression wasn’t lost on Tom. “What’s on your mind, Draco?”

He shrugged. “I was just thinking: assuming we _can_ change the past, what about, um…?”

“Yes? Go on.”

“My mother,” Draco said dejectedly.

Harry immediately understood. He moved closer and wrapped his arms around the blond Slytherin, whose demeanor had turned quite glum. “You miss her, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” Draco whispered. “Very much.”

Tom shook his head. Those two could always be trusted to have some kind of emotional crisis over something like this. Still, he couldn’t deny that seeing Draco so upset gave him an unpleasant twinge in his gut as well. He sat down on the bed, next to the other two, and placed a hand on Draco’s shoulder. “It’ll be all right,” he said softly.

Draco turned to look at him. “How can you be so sure?”

Tom smiled. “Well, we’re the three most powerful students in this school, hands down,” he stated confidently, “and we’ve got Granger helping us, too. If anyone can pull this off, we can.”

“He has a very good point, you know,” Harry said and gently kissed Draco on the lips.

“I suppose…” Draco smiled. “So, is there anything else we need to discuss tonight?”

“No,” Tom said. “I don’t think so, and seeing Potter will need to get up very early tomorrow morning, I suggest we make sure he gets a good night’s sleep.”

“Oh.” Harry frowned. “You already want to sleep?”

“No, not just yet.” Tom laughed. “Tell me, Draco, is he always this slow?”

Draco grinned. His mood was fast improving again. “Pretty much, yeah.”

“Hey,” Harry began to protest. “I’m not slo-“

He was cut off by a thorough kiss, and soon found himself being pushed down onto the bed, with a very eager Draco hovering over him. “Neither of us was talking about _sleeping_, Potter,” the boy whispered.

“Oh.” Harry blushed.

Draco pinned Harry’s arms above his head, and leaned down to kiss the boy’s neck. “You’re bloody adorable when you blush, Potter,” he whispered. “Has anyone ever told you that?”

This, of course, caused Harry’s cheeks to flush even more. “N-No,” he stammered.

“Stop it, Malfoy.” Tom laughed as he toed off his shoes. “You’re embarrassing the hell out of him.”

Draco ignored that. “You’re wearing far too many clothes, Harry,” he declared, and carefully loosened the Gryffindor tie. “I’ll have to do something about that, won’t I?”

Harry nodded. He lay back and allowed Draco to unbutton his shirt, which the Slytherin did slowly, kissing every inch of newly exposed skin he encountered in the process. Draco’s tongue circled Harry’s left nipple, and Harry moaned softly.

Draco paused for a moment. He turned to face Tom. “Do you want to…?” he asked, making a vague gesture with his hand.

“In a minute,” Tom replied, licking his lips.

“All right.” Draco leaned down again to resume his earlier ministrations.

“He really likes to watch, doesn’t he?” Harry whispered, slightly out of breath.

“Yes, and I can’t say I blame him, either. You look positively delicious like this, Potter, all flustered and eager.”

Draco reached a hand down and began to stroke Harry’s erection through his trousers. “How far are you prepared to go tonight?” he asked softly, the husky tone of his voice sending a shiver up and down Harry’s spine.

“I-“ Harry swallowed hard and asked nervously, “What did you have in mind?”

Draco threw a questioning look at Tom, who just shrugged in response.

“Well, nothing specific,” Draco whispered. “Just let me know if I go too far, all right? I’ll stop whenever you tell me to.”

Harry’s heart was racing, from excitement or trepidation, or a bit of both, he couldn’t be absolutely sure. “Right,” he breathed. “Okay, I will.”

“Good.” Draco pressed a quick kiss to Harry’s lips. With a trembling hand, he brushed a strand of hair from Harry’s face, and asked, “I’d like to see all of you, is that all right?”

Harry bit his lip and nodded. He allowed Draco to undress him while Tom sat there and watched, his arms crossed and an appreciative look on his face.

Harry couldn’t decide whether he found the current situation incredibly exciting or a little scary, but he was definitely a little disappointed that Tom wasn’t joining in. What they were doing felt a little too impersonal to Harry’s liking.

The truth of the matter was that Harry was falling for them both, or perhaps he already had, and it was an odd but wonderfully exhilarating feeling. Now if only Tom would…

“What are you grinning about, Potter?” Draco asked, snapping Harry back to the present.

“I was just thinking,” Harry replied. “Why is Tom sitting all the way over _there_?”

“You have a problem with that, do you?” Draco asked with a smile.

“Yes, actually,” Harry answered firmly.

“Why?”

“Because-” Harry took a deep breath and forced himself to say the words: “I want to touch him, too.”

“Ah. In that case,” Draco said, grinning mischievously. “Mister Riddle, your presence is urgently required here.”

“Unless you really only want to watch?” Harry quickly interjected, hoping he hadn’t gone too far or spoiled the mood by appearing presumptuous or over-eager.

Tom scooted closer. “Oh, I might still be persuaded to change my mind, given the right incentive,” he replied dryly.

“The right incentive.” Harry chuckled and sat up again. “I think I can manage that.” He grabbed Tom’s hands, pulled him into his arms and kissed him fiercely.

Draco sat back, ran a hand through his hair, and took a deep breath. His lovers were quite a sight to behold, and although he also felt a slight twinge of envy as he watched them, Draco was mostly pleased that the attraction between Tom and Harry clearly continued to grow; this arrangement would never work, let alone last, otherwise.

Tom pulled back. He looked at Draco and smiled. “Come here, Malfoy.”

The two, in turn, shared a passionate kiss. “You know, Draco,” Tom pointed out, “Potter is still terribly overdressed.”

“So are the two of you,” Harry retorted. “Not fair, really.”

“We’re Slytherins, Potter, and Tom was almost on the path to becoming a Dark Lord when you summoned him here.” Draco smirked. “Please don’t tell me you actually expected us to start playing _fair_ at some point…”

“Now, Draco,” Tom interjected. “His suggestion does hold some merit.” He took off his shirt. “Besides, it’s about time the three of us become closer, don’t you think?”

“Whatever you say, Tom,” Draco replied with a smile. He tried to act casual about it all, but the desire in his eyes was impossible to hide, not to mention how his cock was already reacting to the night’s events. This was turning out to be a lot more exciting than anything he’d ever done before, and he was hardly inexperienced by any stretch of the imagination.

Harry sat back and watched as the other two removed their shirts, shoes, socks and trousers, until they were both sitting there in just their boxers.

He briefly wondered when Tom had started wearing Muggle-style underwear, but soon found himself distracted by how breathtaking both boys looked. He’d seen their bodies before, of course, but to have them this close, within touching reach, it was… Harry bit his lip. He had no clue what to say or do first, and was very relieved when Tom made the decision for him.

Tom pressed an eager kiss to Harry’s lips. It left Harry panting and breathless. Then Tom moved closer to Draco and they, too, kissed longingly.

Draco held out his hand and Harry took it. They embraced, the three of them, and Harry found it slightly odd, but not awkwardly so.

After all, things between them had changed, and Draco and Tom were actually allowing him to be a part of their relationship, as opposed to some bloke they occasionally messed around with on the side.

Initially, Harry had been scared that he’d end up being used, but luckily, things hadn’t turned out that way at all. What they shared felt genuine to Harry, and quite wonderful on so many levels.

“Harry,” Draco whispered, “lie back down again, would you?”

“Oh.” He frowned. “All right.”

Draco grinned, and carefully pulled down Harry’s boxers.

“Well, what have we here?” he said teasingly, eyeing Harry’s cock with obvious appreciation.

“Um.” Harry blushed furiously. He wanted to say something, _anything_, utter some cutting retort that would make him seem less inexperienced and foolish, but all ability of coherent speech left him in the very moment Draco took him in his mouth again. All he still managed was a strangled groan.

Through lidded eyes, he saw Tom take something out of a bedside table drawer. It looked like-

Harry gulped.

Tom unscrewed the lid and handed the small jar to Draco, who applied some of its contents onto his fingers.

“Wha-“ Harry began, suddenly feeling extremely nervous, and more than a little scared.

“Shhh,” Draco said soothingly. “Don’t worry. I’m just going to have a feel around. I won’t shag you unless you specifically ask.”

“A feel around,” Harry parroted awkwardly.

“Yes,” Tom cut in. “I think you’re about to be pleasantly surprised. You have to learn to trust us, Potter.” With that, he moved to Harry’s other side, and started to lick and suck Harry’s left nipple.

Moaning deeply, Harry tangled one hand in Tom’s hair and the other in Draco’s.

_Trust them_. He supposed he could give it a try. He had no complaints so far, at any rate.

Again, Draco was sucking and licking Harry’s cock, while at the same time prodding a finger around Harry’s entrance.

Somewhere at the back of his mind, Harry was still a little scared, but lust and pleasure were fast taking over, drowning out any remaining feelings of uncertainty, until all he could think was “Yes” and “More.”

Meanwhile, Tom was sucking on Harry’s right nipple with fervor, and then Draco…

Emitting what was almost a scream, Harry suddenly, involuntarily, arched off the bed as something deep inside of him was pressed; something that felt- the feeling was truly beyond incredible.

“Oh God, guh, Draco, what…?“

“Well, it looks like I found what I was looking for.” Draco snickered. He pressed the spot once again and this time Harry definitely screamed.

“Brace yourself, Potter,” Draco whispered. “I’m going to make you see stars.”

He turned his full attention back to what he’d being doing previously, sucking Harry’s cock while at the same time pushing his fingers in and out of Harry’s entrance, pressing them down where he knew it would feel good.

Harry whimpered and moaned, thrashing his head from side to side. He knew it wouldn’t be long now before he exploded in Malfoy’s mouth.

Tom held Harry’s hips down to prevent the boy from thrusting up too frantically, and he continued to concentrate on Harry’s sensitive nipples; licking, kissing and sucking, until a broken, whispered plea suddenly stopped him dead in his tracks.

“Tom, would you- _guh_ \- kiss me? Please?”

Tom looked up.

Harry was lying there; his eyes wide, small droplets of sweat trickling down his forehead, his cheeks pink and his lips swollen, and Tom smiled at the sight. All he could think was that the boy looked gorgeous.

“All right.”

Continuing to restrain the Gryffindor’s hips with one hand, Tom crawled up Harry’s body and pressed an eager kiss to his soft lips.

Harry kissed back heatedly. He reached his left hand down to clasp Draco’s free hand, as he pulled Tom closer with his right hand. “Oh fuck.” He moaned against Tom’s mouth. His whole body felt as if it was on fire. It definitely wouldn’t be long now, before-

“Oh God, I’m going to-” he gasped out before his climax hit him full-force. Groaning loudly and clinging to Tom for all he was worth, Harry shot his release down Draco’s throat.

Draco didn’t pull back until Harry was completely done. Then he smiled, tenderly kissed Harry’s stomach, and looked at Tom.

“I want you inside me,” he whispered. “Unless you’d rather watch me finish myself off instead?”

“Not a chance, Malfoy.” Tom grinned wickedly. “I’m definitely going to shag you now.”

“Good.” Draco smirked. He removed his boxers, and went to sit on all fours, facing Harry.

Tom applied a generous amount of lube. He was pretty turned on and he hoped it wouldn’t be over too soon. Carefully, with all the self-control he could still muster, he pushed himself inside.

Harry sat up, still somewhat dazed from his recent orgasm. “Draco,” he began, “can I…?”

“Yes, Harry? What?”

Harry scooted closer, cupped Draco’s face with both hands, and kissed him softly. He could taste himself in the kiss, but he didn’t mind. It only made the experience more real and intimate.

In his heart of hearts, Harry knew it was far too early to say anything about love or devotion, even though he really wanted to, so instead, he asked, “Is there anything you’d like me to do to, um, you know, return the favour?”

“No.” Draco smiled. “Just sit back and watch. Watch carefully. Don’t take your eyes off us, not even for one second.”

“Bloody hell.” Harry shook his head and chuckled. “You two really have a thing about watching and being watched, don’t you?”

“Well, there would be no point in trying to deny the obvious.” Draco grinned. “So yes, we do. But only if the right people are involved, though. Well, the right _person_, anyway.”

Harry smiled. Draco’s thinly veiled revelation left him feeling rather giddy. He had never expected things to get this _intense_, emotionally.

He moved back, leaned against the headboard and watched as Tom started to move in and out of Draco, both boys rocking their hips back and forth in a steady, leisurely rhythm.

Harry made a mental note to ask how painful doing _that_ for the first time was, and how long it generally took before things started to feel good. He definitely wanted to try sex too, preferably some day soon.

Not before long, they were moving faster and Tom was pumping Draco’s cock in time with his thrusts. Both young men had their eyes closed, and were making a plethora of delicious, erotic noises that almost had Harry’s cock springing to attention again.

He bit his lip, mesmerised by the sight in front of him, until suddenly, much earlier than he’d hoped, it was all over.

Tom and Draco came at about the same time, groaning loudly, before they separated and fell into a heap onto the bed; panting heavily.

Harry took his wand from the nightstand and cast a few cleaning spells, successfully getting rid of all the sticky mess on their bodies and the sheets beneath them.

Draco gazed up at him and smiled.

Harry smiled back, but found himself hesitating. All of a sudden, for reasons he couldn’t explain, he felt somewhat insecure about lying down next to them. He almost felt like an intruder even, until Draco held out a hand and said softly, “Come here, Harry. Let’s get some sleep.”

Harry nodded, grateful for the invitation and the unspoken reassurance that came with it.

He lay down and rested his head against Draco’s warm chest. One of Draco’s arms draped itself around his shoulders, and for a moment, Tom’s hand ruffled his hair affectionately.

Harry smiled.

All three whispered their goodnights, and Harry snuggled even closer, feeling safe and content.

He supposed it was slightly ironic how, with the two most unlikely of people, he had finally found his home, but still, this felt inexplicably right, and he hoped with all his heart that things between them would never change, no matter what the following morning held in store.


	21. Fill In The Blanks

A few hours later, Draco was rudely awakened by the hard shove of an elbow in his ribs. He pried one eye open and discovered that the young man to his left was thrashing his limbs wildly, as if engaged in some fierce battle with an invisible enemy.

"Violent sleeper, isn’t he, our Potter?" Tom remarked with a wry grin. Clearly, the ruckus had snapped him out of his slumber, too.

"We’d best wake him up," Draco whispered, gently shaking Harry by the shoulders. "Potter? Harry? Are you all right?"

Startled green eyes flew open. The terrified look they held sent a chill up and down Draco’s spine.

"Oh God," Harry gasped out, petrified, before he flung himself at Draco and pulled the boy into a crushing embrace.

"Were you having some kind of nightmare, Harry?" Draco knew his question was redundant, but perhaps it would encourage Harry to talk about his bad dream if he needed to, so Draco asked it anyway.

"Yeah. It was… pretty horrible." Harry shuddered again and added in a shaky voice, “It was about Voldemort.”

"There is no such person anymore," Tom pointed out reasonably.

“No. But-“ Harry lifted a hand to feel his own forehead. "My scar, it stings. It-It's not bleeding or anything, is it? Could-Could you have a look for me?"

Tom nodded. Gently, he took Harry’s hand, brushed the boy’s unruly fringe out of the way, and carefully traced the scar with his index finger. "No," he replied honestly, "if anything, it seems to have got smaller. Perhaps that’s what the stinging is all about: your scar is finally starting to fade?"

“It's smaller?” Harry blinked. "Really?"

"He's right," Draco agreed. He was also studying the infamous lightning bolt carefully. “It does seem less pronounced than before.” He smiled reassuringly and added, “Besides, you're perfectly safe now, especially here with us. We'd never hurt you, Harry."

"Well, not unless you asked nicely,” Tom supplied with a wink.

Harry shook his head and smiled. “I know.”

"Would you like something to drink?" Draco asked. “You sound rather hoarse.”

“Yeah,” Harry replied. “Thanks. That’d be good.”

His throat did feel dry, like sandpaper, as if he’d been screaming for ages, which was probably exactly what he had been doing and how he had ended up waking his- boyfriends—_lovers?_

One day soon, he silently promised himself, he’d ask them what they would prefer to be called. He, himself, thought ‘boyfriends’ sounded the best. That was more personal and far less vulgar than the alternative.

To Harry’s relief, neither Draco nor Tom seemed inclined to mention any terrified screaming, let alone mock him over it.

_They really care about me_, Harry thought, not for the first time in the past twenty-four hours, and in spite of everything else, including the dread at whatever awaited them the following morning, the realisation made his heart feel much lighter.

Draco got up and walked towards the small table to pour Harry a glass of water.

Meanwhile, Tom asked softly, "Do you still get them often, Harry, nightmares that severe?"

Harry nodded. He ran a shaky hand through his hair and replied, “The lady from St. Mungo’s claims I’ve been traumatised for years, and that’s why I-" He sighed.

Tom nodded. “After everything I’ve heard about you and your past, I can’t say I’m terribly surprised."

Harry frowned, trying to determine whether Tom was being sarcastic or worse, felt sorry for him, but luckily neither seemed to be the case. Once again, he looked genuinely concerned.

“Come here.” Tom held out his hand. “You need your sleep for tomorrow.”

Harry nodded. Slowly, he scooted closer, until he was wrapped in Tom’s arms. He hoped Draco wouldn’t mind seeing them like this. After all, sexual experimentation was one thing, intimacy another, and when it came to the latter, he wasn’t all that certain yet where precisely he stood with Tom.

Draco returned with a glass of water. If he was bothered by Harry and Tom’s closeness, he didn’t let on. “Here you go, Potter,” he said with a smile. “This should help.”

“Thanks.” Harry sat up and took a sip. The liquid felt cool and soothing going down his throat.

He handed the glass back to Draco, who placed it on the bedside table. “So, I left for two minutes,” the blond Slytherin remarked with a grin, “and now _someone else_ is suddenly in the middle of the bed. Sneaky little bugger, aren’t you, Potter?”

“Do you want me to-“ Harry began, ready to make room.

“No,” Draco said quickly, and climbed into bed next to him. “You’re going to lie down and go back to sleep right where you are. Besides, this way we can keep a better eye on you.”

“All right,” Harry said, relieved. He settled back against the pillows and turned over onto his left side. He was pleasantly surprised when Tom wrapped an arm around him and pulled him close again, and then Draco snuggled up against his back and snaked an arm around his waist.

“You’re safe now,” Draco whispered in his ear. “Get some rest."

“I know,” Harry said. “Thanks. Both of you.”

He closed his eyes and soon drifted off to sleep.

This time, no terrible dreams came.

 

* * *

At precisely six o'clock that morning, rubbing her eyes that were still itchy with sleep, Hermione walked into the Heads' Common Room.

"You're early," she told Harry.

The boy was sitting on one of the sofas, his arms crossed and his expression understandably nervous. "Yeah, I-um," he blurted out, "I spent the night here."

Hermione blinked, suddenly immensely relieved that Ron hadn't. The thought of having to explain the recent developments in Harry’s love life to her boyfriend filled her with something far worse than dread.

"I see," she said flatly. "Well, come on, then; let's go. No time to waste."

Harry nodded. "Right."

Concealed by the Invisibility Cloak, the two of them carefully made their way to the room on the fifth floor, which, according to Harry’s Map was still being guarded. They were both very relieved that none of their fellow students or any members of staff were up and about yet.

"Here we are," Hermione said as they reached their destination. She moved from underneath Harry's cloak and walked straight towards the goblin that stood in front of the door, keeping watch.

"Miss," he said sternly. "I must warn you not to go any farther."

"I'm ever so sorry," she replied, before she pulled out her wand and Stupefied the creature, "but I'm afraid we'll have to."

She turned back around to face her friend, and gestured towards the door. "All right. The coast is clear. You can go in now, Harry, but I suggest you be as quick about it as you can."

He nodded, hurried into the room, which oddly enough wasn't Warded, and when he re-emerged again a few minutes later, he looked utterly baffled.

"It's some kind of… stone arch," he said.

Hermione’s eyes widened in confusion. "A _what_?!"

"You know, one of those constructions. _Fuck._" He shook his head and looked more angry and disappointed by the minute. "I doubt it has anything to do with Tom, though. It seems to me more like some scheme from Snape to put us on the wrong trail, to distract us from what's really going on. Ruddy bastard!"

Hermione frowned. She had taken a huge risk by coming here, and she wasn't ready to give up so easily, not just yet.

"I'll be right back," she said and purposefully strode into the room.

She discovered that it was spacious and a lot better lit than she had expected, and when she at last saw the thing Harry had referred to as ‘an arch’, she held back the urge to gasp. Then she blinked twice, as though making certain her eyes weren’t deceiving her.

Right there in front of her stood a Time Portal.

She'd read about those, of course she had, and had even seen detailed illustrations in some of the books she’d sneaked out of the Restricted Section, but still she was stunned at what an impressive sight they turned out to be in real life.

Supposedly, they were a lot more versatile than a Time Turner, though at the same time, they were also considerably more difficult to use properly, with possibly devastating consequences if something went wrong.

If she remembered correctly—she'd have to check the specifics later—there was another clause as well: the Portals' powers could only be summoned at a Full Moon. On any other day or night, a Time Portal was nothing but a lovely, albeit also slightly old-fashioned, piece of architecture.

Hermione bit her lip and furrowed her brows in concentration. The next Full Moon… That would occur _tomorrow_, wouldn't it?

Yes, she was pretty sure, because she had seen the teachers’ roster last night. Professor Lupin's replacement would be teaching Transfiguration in the Werewolf’s stead.

So this meant that the four of them—assuming Harry, Malfoy and Riddle weren't intending to leave this challenging task completely up to her—had a good thirty-six hours to come up with an airtight plan, a way to render the Portal useless, destroy it or obliterate its powers, and do so without damaging anything else in the process.

She took a deep breath, clenched her fists in determination and exited the room.

First, she had to tell Harry the news, and then she had to concoct a plausible excuse to miss classes that day and the following, so she'd be able to devote as much time to research as humanly possible.

And assuming their plan worked, she hoped with all her heart that they would be doing the right thing as well by keeping Riddle around. She still had serious doubts on that front, and plenty of them.

Hermione ran a hand through her hair and sighed. A long and daunting thirty-six hours lay ahead.


	22. Rip In Heaven

“You know,” Draco remarked glumly, sitting on the Common Room sofa, his knees propped up to his chest, “if this turns out to be an impossible quest, I might be inclined to throw myself off the Astronomy Tower.”

Tom frowned.

“Or jump out of a window of the headmistress’ office,” Draco went on. “If the impact of the fall doesn’t kill me, the spiked gates should definitely finish me off, don’t you think?”

Tom searched his companion’s face for any signs of jest, but to his dismay, he found none. Draco looked utterly miserable.

Tom shook his head and walked over to sit close to him.

“You realise, don’t you, Malfoy, that I’m supposedly a Dark Lord, or was destined to become one? I’m sure we’ll find some kind of solution, regardless of what it is Granger discovers today.”

“Yes, but…“

“What?”

“What if you _don’t_?” Draco asked in a small voice. “What if we…?“

Tom chose his words carefully. “On the off chance that between the four of us, we can’t stop the staff members from sending me back, unless they somehow manage to erase my memories of what happened here, too, things are going to change, regardless. I quite honestly have no plans to harm you or to kill Potter’s parents.” He chuckled. “Of course, I might put a greasy-haired, big-nosed bastard out of everyone’s collective misery, but I highly doubt anyone would berate me that.”

Draco couldn’t avoid cracking a smile. “But still,” he added, “what about the three of us?”

“Maybe I could kidnap you and Potter as toddlers and then, as soon as you come of age, seduce you both?”

Draco rolled his eyes. “_That_ is fucked up beyond words, Tom, even for you.”

Tom grinned. Holding up a hand in mock-surrender, he said, “I was only trying to help.”

“Usually, though,” Draco remarked, suddenly solemn again. “You know, I’m certainly not one for…”

“What?”

“Sappy confessions,” he replied, almost inaudibly, “but, the thing is… I love you, and I-“ He took a deep breath. He was blushing just as hard as Potter so often was; he could feel it. “I just thought you should know, in case tomorrow, anything were to…” Draco’s breath hitched. He was afraid to look anywhere except down at his hands.

“Draco,” Tom whispered, gently pulling his companion to him. “I’ve never said this to anyone else before, because…” He smiled in a way that was almost shy. “Well, the truth is, you’re the first person I’ve ever experienced these feelings for. I love you, too.”

Finally, Draco did look up, and Tom kissed him passionately. Neither of them noticed the person who burst through their door.

At least, not before the sound of an awkward cough was heard and an embarrassed voice said, “Um, awfully sorry; didn’t mean to interrupt.”

Draco and Tom broke apart and turned to face their visitor, who stood there, shuffling his feet.

“Don’t be daft, Potter,” Tom said with an amused shake of his head. “You’re hardly interrupting us.”

Draco smiled and held out his hand. “Harry?”

Slowly, Harry walked over, and Draco pulled him down onto the spacious sofa. The two of them kissed in a way that suggested they hadn’t seen one another in many weeks, not just a few hours.

“Knock it off, you two. Honestly!” Tom said and proceeded to get straight to the point. “So, Potter, did you find anything interesting in that room?”

“Yeah. A Time Portal.”

“What? Those things actually _do_ exist?” asked Tom, baffled.

Harry nodded. “Unfortunately.”

Draco, for his part, looked confused. “What are they?”

Harry explained: “Apparently, you walk through one, and you’re instantly transported to any predetermined era or even a specific time you want to be in. The only trouble is, you can’t get back. Not unless there’s a similar Portal wherever you end up, or some sort of alternative.”

Draco took a deep breath. “I see. But- what if-“ He swallowed hard. His mind was working overtime, desperately searching to come up with something, _anything_ to stop what seemed to be the inevitable. “What if Tom doesn’t walk through it? What if the three of us run off tonight? We could go to the Manor. I’ll put up strong Wards; no one would ever…”

Tom shook his head. “That wouldn’t work, Draco. From what I’ve heard—and do correct me if I’m wrong, Potter—I won’t actually need to walk through the Portal, myself. Someone knowledgeable, possibly Snape in this case, only has to cast the right spell at the right time to trigger the thing, with something personal of mine—a hair or a fibre from my robes or even a quill I’ve used would do—placed underneath the arch, and I’ll be gone.”

“He’s right,” Harry interjected. “Hermione said pretty much the same thing.”

Draco paled. “So doing a runner wouldn’t make any difference,” he muttered feebly to no one in particular.

“Right, Potter,” Tom went on, appearing a lot more calm and composed than he actually felt. “So, what’s our next course of action?”

“Hermione’s looking for some way to destroy it. She’s familiar with the contents of these restricted books; we used them when we were hunting for Horcruxes; they’re mainly about the safe destruction of dangerous magical items, and she’s pretty sure she saw the Portals mentioned somewhere, so…”

“Right,” Draco said. “So Granger’s researching, working on it.”

Tom wrapped an arm around the clearly distraught boy. “Granger’s brilliant, Draco.”

Harry nodded. “She is, you know.”

“I’m well aware of that,” Draco said softly. “It’s just… Anyway, if this turns out successfully, remind me to apologise to her.”

Tom frowned. “Apologise?”

“He was a real dickhead to her when we were younger,” Harry supplied, but at the same time, he smiled at Draco to show that no malice was intended.

Tom rolled his eyes. “To her and to the rest of Gryffindor, I expect,” he said, standing up. “And they probably deserved it. Anyway, we have Herbology in twenty minutes. We should get going.”

“Yeah,” Harry agreed. He gave Draco a quick kiss on the nose, and said with a wry smile, “Hopefully the bloody plants won’t try to attack anybody today.”

* * *

In the Restricted Section, Hermione, concealed by Harry's cloak, sat and read by the light of her wand.

She knew what she was looking for. Now if she could only remember where she had first seen it…

She didn’t have all that much time to look, and she hoped Ron wouldn’t come searching for her here either, once he’d noticed her missing from class.

One day soon, she’d tell him about all this. Not just yet, however. There simply wasn’t any time, and besides, there was no way of telling how he’d react to the changed relationship between Harry, Draco and Tom, except that his reaction definitely wouldn’t be too pleasant.

She sighed deeply and turned another page.

Somewhere at the back of her mind, she really didn’t enjoy doing this. She especially disliked the fact that she was about to sabotage the teachers’ plans, even if it was only to help her best friend, to keep Harry happy and to stop him from sinking into a deep depression, or worse.

On the other hand, of course, it had to be said that Professor Snape’s recent behaviour had left something to be desired, and she suspected the man wasn’t acting out of anyone’s best interests, except his own.

On page 404 of the eighth book Hermione consulted, she finally found what she’d been looking for.

She took a deep breath as she read the words in front of her.

This wasn’t going to be easy.

* * *

“Tomorrow evening before dinner,” Hermione said in conclusion. “I’ve consulted the roster. Professor Snape will be supervising some first-years’ detention, which gives you a window of about an hour. It isn’t much, but it should be enough for what needs to be done.”

“Thanks, Hermione,” Tom said. “See you tomorrow.”

Hermione stifled a yawn. “Yes. Goodnight, boys,” she replied and exited the room, softly shutting the door behind her.

Harry wrung his hands nervously. “Well, I suppose I’d better, um…”

“You’re very welcome to stay,” Draco offered. “If you’d like?”

Harry gave Tom a questioning look.

Tom shrugged. “Fine by me.”

“That’s settled, then,” Draco stated. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to take a shower before I retire.”

“How about you, Harry?” Tom asked as Draco headed into the bathroom. “Do you also fancy a shower? Or maybe something else?”

“Um, I-“

Tom grinned deviously and took a few steps closer. “You know, Potter,” he said, cupping Harry’s face, “I have no idea what it is about you exactly, but I’m finding you increasingly difficult to dislike.”

Harry swallowed hard. “I could say the same about you, Riddle.”

Tom moved to loosen Harry’s tie. “You don’t mind, do you?”

Harry slowly shook his head. His eyes fluttered shut as Tom kissed him, and he couldn’t stop the moan that escaped his throat.

“Let’s go in and surprise Draco,” Tom suggested huskily. He toed off his shoes and unbuttoned his shirt, and Harry soon followed his example.

A few minutes later, Draco turned around when he heard the sound of a door opening. He saw his two lovers standing a few feet away. Harry looked aroused and a little awkward—_as usual,_ Draco decided—whereas Tom seemed mostly amused.

“Well,” Draco remarked with a smirk, “private rooms certainly aren’t what they used to be. A person can’t even shower in peace anymore around here.”

Tom laughed. “Of course you can, Draco. Don’t mind us.”

He gently pushed Harry against the nearest wall and sank to his knees in front of him.

Harry shivered as his bare back came into contact with the cold marble and then, mere seconds later, his cock was enveloped by a moist heat, and he found himself trembling for entirely different reasons. “Oh God,” he said in a raspy voice, and tangled his hands in Tom’s thick, dark hair.

Over Tom’s shoulder, he locked eyes with Draco, who was standing there, watching the scene intently.

Harry held out his hand. “Come here?”

Draco turned off the water and walked towards Harry. They shared a slow, tender kiss.

“Would you… like to-“ Harry began, but he couldn’t get the full sentence out. What Tom was doing to him, licking and sucking his dick ever so lightly, was making it very difficult for Harry to still say anything coherent.

“Shh,” Draco whispered. “I’ll just stand here and watch you come. It’s an incredible turn-on, you realise. Notice how hard I am already?”

Harry looked down and nodded. “Do you… want me to…?“ He made a vague hand gesture in the direction of Draco’s cock.

“No, just relax and enjoy what Tom’s doing.”

Harry nodded. It was difficult _not_ to enjoy it.

Tom was picking up the pace, using one hand to steady Harry’s hips and the other to fondle Harry’s balls, slowly, almost teasingly, while, at the same time, he continued doing amazing things with his mouth and tongue.

“Oh God.” Harry moaned. He threw his head back and closed his eyes. His moans were fast growing louder and more needy. He gripped Tom’s shoulders and held on to them tightly. “I’m going to,” he breathed. “God, Tom, _fuck_, yesssss.”

When he opened his eyes again, the first thing he saw was Draco smiling at him. “That looked like fun, Potter.”

Tom stood up, a little shaky, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “I think I heard my knees crack” was the first thing he said, and Draco chuckled.

“Feeling your age, Riddle?”

“Hilarious, Malfoy. Technically, you’re older than I am.”

Draco advanced on him. “Let’s see how that plays out in practice, shall we?”

Tom grinned. “Is that a challenge of some sort?”

“It might be.” Draco raised an amused eyebrow.

“What did you have in mind?”

“Lie down and you’ll see.”

“Lie down? On the floor?” Tom asked, clearly surprised.

“Aha! So you _are_ feeling your age,” Draco said with a triumphant smirk. “I knew it.”

Harry laughed. He almost sounded giddy, and he probably looked it, too, but then he _had_ just experienced one of the most intense orgasms of his young life, so some giddiness was probably allowed.

“You, Potter,” Tom said, “are going to take a shower with your back turned. I wouldn’t want any witnesses if I end up having to strangle Malfoy here.”

Harry laughed again, and to Draco’s amusement, Tom did as he’d been asked. He went to lie down on the cold bathroom floor, and asked, “So, what happens now?”

“Now.” Draco hunched down. “I’m going to ride you. If you’ll let me.”

Harry’s eyes widened, and his heart skipped a beat when Tom nodded in response.

Draco wandlessly summoned some lube from the bedroom. He liberally coated his fingers with it and ran them up and down Tom’s cock.

Not before long, Harry was half-hard again. Biting his lip, he watched as Draco sat down, pushing Tom deep inside of him.

“D-Doesn’t that hurt?” Harry stammered, taking a seat next to them on the floor.

“Not in a bad way, Harry.” Draco smiled and slowly began to move, up and down.

Harry kept staring, fascinated. “Can I do anything?” he asked softly.

Tom reached out and took Harry’s hand. “You could stroke him?” he suggested.

“All right,” Harry said. He scooted a little closer and wrapped his right hand around Draco’s dick.

Harry leaned up to kiss Draco’s cheek, and then began to move his hand up and down, while Tom played with Draco’s nipples.

Moans filled the bathroom, getting louder and louder, until with a deep guttural cry, Draco spilled his release all over Harry’s hand

Tom’s climax followed almost instantly, and Harry couldn’t help but stare; Tom was beautiful when he came. He looked so passionate, so _intense_. Harry gulped.

“I’m going to need another shower,” Draco announced, carefully scrambling to his feet again.

Tom chuckled. “I think we could all do with one.”

Harry nodded.

“Mine will have to be quick, though,” Draco added. “I wouldn’t want to end up looking like a shrivelled prune.”

True to his word, he rinsed himself off quickly before sauntering back into the bedroom, leaving Harry and Tom standing under the warm, cascading water by themselves.

“Has he always been that vain?” Tom asked with a soft chuckle.

Harry nodded. “I think he used to be even worse, actually.”

“Even worse? Thank Merlin for small mercies, then.” Tom grinned. “So, tell me,” he added, placing his hands on Harry’s hips. “You’re not quite satisfied yet, are you?”

Harry bit his lip. “Um, well-“

“Shh.” Tom reached his hand down and ran his fingers up and down Harry’s length. “You should have said something just now. We would have taken care of you.”

“Yeah, but I’d already, um, whereas you two…”

“No one’s keeping score here,” Tom said and added as an afterthought, “Not even Draco, for once.”

Harry smiled. “You’ve got to know him pretty well, haven’t you?”

“Yes,” Tom said, “and I plan to get to know you just as well.” He kissed Harry’s neck. “Now, what do you need?”

“Need?” Harry gulped. “I’d um- could you-“

Tom frowned.

“I’d like you inside me,” Harry blurted. He cleared his throat and couldn’t help but be a little disappointed that, without his glasses, he was unable to see Tom’s face, and as such, Tom’s reaction, properly.

“Are you sure?” Tom asked.

“Yes.”

“Ah, well…”

“What?” Harry took a step back. “Don’t you want me?”

“That’s not it,” Tom said quickly, pulling Harry to him so that their naked bodies were pressed closely together. “This will no doubt sound rather daft, but I more or less promised Draco he could take your virginity.”

Harry blinked. “I wasn’t aware it was _yours_ to give away, Riddle,” he snapped. All of a sudden, he wanted to leave. Perhaps they _were_ just toying with him, after all. Harry tried to back away again, attempting to free himself from Tom’s grip.

“Oh no, you don’t.” Tom said firmly. He shoved Harry against the wall and went to stand in front of him, leaving Harry trapped. “Firstly, there’s no need to get snippy. Draco bloody adores you. And secondly, I was only joking. Well, not about the conversation, that happened all right, but about either of us taking it very seriously. If you want me to shag you, Potter, you only have to ask.”

Before Harry could protest, Tom leaned in for a searing kiss. All rational thought fled Harry’ mind, and he was soon left wondering what he’d even been so upset about in the first place. “Shag me, Tom,” he said, breathily, when they broke apart again.

“You’re absolutely certain that’s what you want?”

“Yes.” Harry kissed him again, hungrily. “_Please._”

“Where?”

“Right here?”

“All right,” Tom said. “Turn around.” He summoned the lube from where it was lying on the bathroom floor.

Not before long, Harry could feel a distinct hardness pressing against his back. A warm, wet hand wrapped itself around his cock and began to stroke, warm lips kissed his neck, and then a slicked finger made its way inside him.

Harry cried out when Tom pressed the same spot Draco had stimulated the day before. Soon, a second finger joined the first. Tom’s movements fell into a comfortable rhythm.

Already, Harry was panting hard. “Tom,” he breathed, “Inside me? Please? Before I… I’m already pretty close.”

“Right. Bend over a little.”

Harry gritted his teeth. The angle was somewhat awkward, and it took a few attempts before Tom managed to push himself all the way in.

“Let me know when I can move,” Tom said softly.

“Right.” Harry inhaled sharply. From a rational point of view, this was insane; he realised as much. Tom Riddle, the supposed future Voldemort, was about to shag him in Draco Malfoy’s private bathroom. But at the same time, it also felt incredibly right and far too amazing to stop. After all, they were different people now, weren’t they?

“Okay,” Harry whispered, “I’m ready.”

“All right.” Tom dropped a quick kiss on Harry’s shoulder and began to move.

Harry held on to the wall and the taps and anything else he could grab hold of, to help keep his balance. Tom, meanwhile, was thrusting in and out of him, all the while pumping Harry’s cock in time with his thrusts.

Harry had expected pain, at least initially, and although he’d been pretty confident that things would turn pleasurable eventually—otherwise people wouldn’t keep doing this—he hadn’t expected sex to be anywhere near this good. This was even better than what they’d done the day before, and suddenly, the idea that it was Tom Riddle who was doing this to him also made Harry feel wicked and oddly liberated, in a sense.

“Tom.” Harry gasped, as they were both moving faster, pushing back and forth, harder and harder.

“It’s not”—Tom’s breath hitched—”too rough for you like this, is it?”

“No. It’s bloody brilliant.” Harry moaned. “Don’t stop, Tom. Oh fuck. _Please_ don’t stop.”

Tom chuckled. “Not a chance of that, Potter.”

Three more hard thrusts were all it took before Harry screamed. He came hard and pulled Tom over the edge with him.

They remained still for a few minutes, catching their breaths and trying not to keel over. Tom was the first to speak again. “Bloody hell,” he said with a soft laugh. “I generally last much longer than that. Then again, you were so bloody tight.”

“Yeah.” Harry sniggered. “Virgin, remember?”

“Not quite, Potter.” Tom spun him around and kissed him thoroughly. “Not anymore.”

When they walked back into the bedroom a few minutes later, both dressed in green pyjamas and grinning widely, Draco didn’t need to guess twice to know what had just occurred; it was written all over their smug faces.

“Keeping promises isn’t exactly one of your many talents, is it, Tom?” he asked pointedly.

“Blame Potter,” Tom replied, still grinning. “It’s all his fault for being so bloody irresistible.”

Draco looked from Tom to Harry and back and just shook his head. He was a little bit disappointed that he hadn’t been Harry’s first, himself, but on the other hand, he much preferred this to possible animosity… Having to share Harry was nothing compared to the thought of losing them both, and besides, this could all be over tomorrow, so this really wasn’t the time for strife or jealousy or even harmless taunting.

Draco smiled, and forced himself to try to stay positive. Granger’s plans had always worked before, hadn’t they, even the ridiculous ones? So rationally speaking, there was no reason for this to be an exception, was there?

“Let’s get some rest,” he said. “Big day tomorrow.”

Tom and Harry both nodded, and the three of them got ready for what would be either their final night together, or only the second of many more to come.


	23. Twisting Fate

Just finishing his Transfiguration homework (Hermione would certainly be proud of him, he thought smugly), Ron glanced up from where he was sitting in the unusually quiet Gryffindor Common Room.

Anxious to the point where he almost tripped over his own feet, Harry came bolting down the stairs.

“Everything okay, mate?” Ron asked with a worried frown.

“Er- yeah, sure,” Harry replied awkwardly.

Not at all convinced, Ron put down his quill. “Where are you rushing off to?”

“Er… I’ve got an appointment with that lady from St. Mungo’s,” Harry said, and his face flooded with colour; he had always been a terrible liar.

“At this time of day?” Predictably, Ron didn’t believe him. “Will you be back in time to join us for dinner?”

“Yeah, she’s extremely busy, that’s why I’m going now,” Harry blurted out and then he stormed off without another syllable.

Ron frowned. His best friend’s behaviour certainly wasn’t getting any less bizarre.

“Oi, Seamus!” He turned to face the boy who was sitting at a table a few feet away. “Do you reckon he's seeing someone or something?"

The Irishman blinked. Truthfully, he had a pretty good idea of what was going on. He hadn’t failed to notice the looks that often passed between Harry and Malfoy these days. Sometimes those glances were conspiratorial, at other times almost yearning, and the other day, he had also spotted Harry heading up to the Heads’ quarters, and such definitely not to talk to Hermione; she’d been in the library at the time.

Still, Seamus had no desire to become the messenger who ended up shot or some magical equivalent thereof, so he shrugged and replied noncommittally, “I really couldn’t say, mate.”

At the same time, however, he also made a mental note to mention this to Harry, to encourage him to come clean before Ron figured it all out on his own. Because Ron would eventually. Of that, Seamus was quite convinced. Just because the youngest Weasley lad was a little slow on the uptake from time to time, that still didn’t make him a complete fool.

* * *

“Well, I hate to say it, Potter, but you’re not as powerful as you once were; or all that stable, for that matter, and your mental state, as we’ve already noticed, greatly influences your magic too.”

Draco smirked. “Ah, but when has the great Harry Potter ever been even remotely close to _stable_, Tom?”

“Hilarious, Malfoy. Really.” Harry rolled his eyes. “You’ve got a point though, Tom,” he added. “When I defeated Voldemort, some of my powers died with him, and I also discovered that I can no longer control my magic as well as I used to.”

Draco blinked. “You- _what?_”

“Didn’t you notice? That day you and I fought?“

“That night you _attacked_ me, you mean,” Draco cut in firmly.

“Er- yeah.” Harry looked sheepish. “But didn’t you notice, though? I barely managed to defend myself when Tom showed up and intervened.”

“Yes, I did wonder about that afterwards,” Draco admitted. “Particularly how you seemed so weak, almost helpless, compared to him.”

Harry smiled wryly but didn’t comment any further.

“So,” Tom said, steering the conversation back to the matter at hand, “the three of us are all in agreement that it will be Draco and myself who will destroy the Time Portal, while Harry keeps watch and Stupefies anyone who comes close?”

He received twin nods in response.

Harry cleared his throat. He felt the need to say something, to add an additional element of closure to this day, which, if everything went according to plan, would mark both an end and a new beginning to their lives as they presently knew them.

“I er- still feel rotten about that night, you know,” he told Draco in hushed tones. “I genuinely thought you were- well, that you’d been on Voldemort’s side during the war, and that you’d willingly, er—“ Harry shuddered. He couldn’t bring himself to utter the remaining words. “Anyway,” he said instead, “when Tom set me straight, I realised I shouldn’t have jumped to those conclusions. I’m very sorry I misjudged you.”

Draco’s eyes widened in blatant horror as he understood what Harry’s apology implied. He turned to Tom. “You told him what the Da- … what Vo- Voldemort did to me?“ he practically yelled, his voice laden with accusation. “You told him I was-“

Tom only nodded.

“Oh God. Fuck, no!” Suddenly feeling embarrassed, vulnerable and all-round wretched beyond words, Draco burst into tears. There had been no need for Potter to find out about all that in even the slightest detail, surely?

“Draco?” Harry said gently and when he received nothing but violent sobs in response, he pulled the distraught boy into his arms and held him tight. “Shh,” he whispered. “It’s all right.”

“You did nothing wrong, Draco,” Tom supplied, his tone of voice betraying no emotion whatsoever, “and Harry does have a right to know the truth now, doesn’t he? The three of us shouldn’t have any secrets, not from each other.”

“No, all right, but still,” Draco choked out, “whatever mustn’t you think of me now, Harry, I-”

“All I think, Draco,” Harry said sincerely, “is that you’re a remarkable, wonderful person, one I should have been a lot kinder to much sooner.”

“Well, I was hardly friendly to you, either,” Draco pointed out. He moved back slightly, and pulled a handkerchief from his robe pocket to dry his eyes. “I bullied you and your friends for years; back in our sixth year, I tried to cast an Unforgivable on you, I-“

“Yeah, after which I magically sliced your chest open,” Harry supplied sadly. “I’m not proud of that either, you know, even if it _was_ sort of an accident.”

“Yes, I know.”

They looked at each other for a few silent moments, two pairs of eyes shining with sadness, regret, and finally, understanding: an unspoken agreement that the past truly didn’t matter anymore, only the present and the future did.

“Everything’s different now, you know,” Harry said firmly, tracing his thumb along Draco’s cheek. He longed to say more, but they didn’t have that much time and he probably wouldn’t find the right words anyway and besides, he was certain that already Draco knew. He had to, after everything.

“Yes, it is,” Draco whispered. They kissed lovingly and Harry thought he never wanted to let go.

“All right, you two,” Tom interrupted them. “When you’re _quite_ done snogging, we have a rather important artefact to demolish, if you recall, and not all that much time available to demolish it in.”

“So we do,” Harry said, pulling back reluctantly. He gave Tom a pointed look. “I’m not letting you go again, Riddle.”

Tom grinned. “As if I’d ever willingly give you the satisfaction of being rid of me, Potter.”

The three of them stealthily made their way to the guarded room. Overpowering the goblin a second time proved a piece of cake, especially since, courtesy of a powerful Confundus Charm from Hermione, the creature had no recollection of the previous attack.

“All right,” Harry said, as Tom and Draco were about to enter the room. “You’ll be careful, won’t you?”

“Of course,” Tom said. “Now, go on, end of the corridor, Potter. Chop-chop!”

Harry smiled. He gave Draco another fleeting look, turned around and did as he’d been instructed.

Concealed by his cloak, he took a deep breath, kept an eye out for any students or members of staff heading their way (Thank Merlin, he hadn’t spotted any so far), and he waited…

… and waited.

About ten minutes later (though it felt like an eternity) the noise of a loud explosion made him whip around.

His eyes widened and his mouth fell open when he saw the bright blue light streaming out of the room that held the Time Portal.

Harry squinted, seeing nothing but endless, captivating blue. He soon realised he had gone numb, couldn’t move, was fascinated, captivated and rooted to the spot…

The bright blue mist came closer and closer, gliding further down the corridor like a bodiless entity, enveloping him, absorbing him almost, until suddenly, he felt his legs give way and his head began to spin and then his whole world turned black…


	24. Brave New World

The moment he regained consciousness, the first thing Harry became aware of was a throbbing sensation in his skull, right above his eyes, like he’d hit his head hard, and he could only assume that was precisely what he had done.

He quite vividly remembered a door, a corridor, a forbidden room, endless blue coming towards him at neck-breaking speed, and…

_Draco? Tom?_

Harry’s eyes snapped open in realisation, but he was quickly forced to shut them again, startled by the painful brightness of what looked like artificial infirmary lights.

_’Am I in the hospital wing?’_ he wondered warily. And if so, did this mean their plan had failed?

“Damn,” he cursed under his breath.

“Harry?” a soft female voice said. “Harry, are you awake? Can you hear me, darling?”

Truthfully, he wanted nothing more than to completely ignore her, but still, something about the way she spoke beckoned him, made him want to pay attention and respond, almost as if not doing so wasn’t an option to him, even though he couldn’t explain why.

He opened his eyes once again, very slowly this time, squinting against that bright, merciless light that seemed to be out to get him.

A pale, slender hand gave him his glasses. He eagerly put them on and as the world finally swirled into focus, the first thing he saw were a pair of green eyes exactly like his own.

Then he noticed long, red hair and a friendly face that was uncannily familiar, albeit slightly older than he’d seen it on photographs. Harry gulped.

“M-M-Mum?” he blurted out, unable to believe what—or rather whom—he was seeing.

“So you _are_ awake,” she said, looking relieved. “Thank Merlin.”

“Yes,” he replied, struggling to find his voice. “Bu-But where am I? What happened?”

“There was a most unfortunate mishap in Potions,” she explained gently. “Poor Neville’s cauldron exploded again, quite brutally this time, and sadly you and Draco were the ones sitting the closest to it.”

“Draco!” Harry exclaimed, attempting to sit up. “Where is he? How is he? He’s all right, isn’t he?”

“Calm down, sweetheart. Please, don’t fret. Draco’s fine. He regained consciousness three days ago. He should be here shortly. Severus has gone to fetch him. We noticed you blinking, so we were hoping you’d wake up soon...”

_Severus?_ Frowning, Harry filed that away for later processing. “How long was I out for?” he asked.

“A little over three weeks. We were all getting quite worried about you, love. Every single member of Slytherin House must have paid you a visit at one time or another, friends coming and going at all hours. Hermione was here every day too, along with that other Ravenclaw girl—Luna, I believe her name is. And you know”—-she gave him a conspiratorial grin— “even the Gryffindors were getting concerned.”

“Slytherin?” Harry blinked. He didn’t understand, not on any level, what was going on here, and the seemingly never-ending, ever-growing confusion really didn’t help the hammering in his head either. “Do I have a lot of friends in Slytherin, then?” he asked.

“Oh, you poor thing,” another female voice cut in. Harry looked the blonde woman who was standing behind his mum up and down, and somewhere through the haze, he recognised her as Narcissa Malfoy. “You’re such a sweet, charming boy,” she went on. “Of course you have a lot of friends amongst your Housemates, whatever makes you think you don’t?”

“I-I’m in Slytherin?” he blurted out.

“Oh, Lily, this is worse than I thought!” Narcissa remarked worriedly. “The poor dear doesn’t even recall which House he belongs to.”

“At least he still remembers his boyfriend, Cissa.”

“B-B-Boyfriend?” Harry’s clarity of mind and eloquence clearly weren’t getting any better with time.

“Draco,” Narcissa offered helpfully. “You just mentioned him. He’s your boyfriend. Oh dear, he’s going to be ever so upset if you have no recollection of that either.”

“Um, no. I mean, yes,” Harry replied. “Yes, of course I remember him, and that he’s my… erm… _boyfriend_.”

Harry inhaled sharply. So he and Draco were an item here, and their relationship was common knowledge as well, apparently. That was one thing, at least, even if he was also in Slytherin (Good Lord!), but the question remained: what about Tom, and what about…

“Ah, here they are,” Lily said with a wide smile. “Severus, Draco, Harry’s awake. He _did_, however, have to be reminded that you’re his boyfriend, Draco, and that after all the trouble he originally went through to win your attention as well. ” She shook her head in amusement.

Harry watched as the familiar young man moved closer to his bed, and he couldn’t help but gulp at the sight.

Draco looked rather… different. He was slim, but not as skinny as he’d been back home. His face looked healthy, too, with none of the gauntness from before. His hair, meanwhile, was slightly longer and tied back in a ponytail, and his grey eyes shone and sparkled with blatant relief and genuine happiness.

Briefly, fear gripped at Harry’s heart. Was this actually the Draco he remembered, the Draco he knew, or some otherworld counterpart? And where the hell was Tom?

“How are you feeling?” Draco asked softly. He sat down on the bed and took Harry’s hand.

“I, er… I’m fine, I guess.”

“What’s the last thing you remember?”

Harry bit his lip and after a few moments’ consideration, he decided to risk the truth. If Draco didn’t know what he was talking about, he’d just put it all down to confusion or amnesia or something else along those lines.

“A bright blue light in the corridor,” Harry replied softly. “Right after you’d disappeared into that room.”

Just for the briefest of moments, more relief was visible in Draco’s facial expression. “You know, there was a Potions accident, Harry,” he said carefully. “An explosion. We were both knocked unconscious.”

“Yes. Mum told me.”

“Come now, Draco. I’m sure you’ve missed the boy, but give him some space. He still needs to rest and from what I can tell, his mind appears at least as muddled as yours was those first few hours after waking.”

It was Severus Snape who spoke those words, and he, too, looked different. Harry decided that it was mostly his hair, which was clean and shiny like he’d never seen it, and the man’s usually sallow complexion had a healthy glow to it. Harry frowned. Snape looked quite… _human_ like this and on the whole, Harry couldn’t help but find that a rather disconcerting sight.

“Do you require anything, Harry?” the man enquired helpfully. “A migraine potion, perhaps?”

Harry’s knee-jerk reaction would have been to refuse, but he had to admit that the pain was almost unbearable and besides, this Snape seemed rather friendly and genuinely concerned for his wellbeing.

“I’d be very grateful, Professor,” Harry replied. “Something to get rid of this dreadful headache would definitely help.”

“_Professor_?” The man chuckled, a sound that startled Harry once more. “We’re not in class presently; no need to call me that here, Harry.”

“Then what-”

“Is this amount of memory loss normal, Severus?” Lily asked with a worried frown. “Draco seemed a lot less confused when he first woke up.”

Snape placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “We’d best ask Poppy to run some extra tests later, just to make absolutely certain no permanent damage has been done.”

Lily nodded.

“I-Is dad here, too?” Harry asked, which unexpectedly caused Draco to flinch.

“Your father will be in later,” Lily said, sounding quite formal all of a sudden.

“Provided he’s sober,” Snape added darkly.

Harry blinked. _Sober?_ The way Draco was squeezing his hand indicated that something was clearly amiss, and whatever it was, it probably had something to do with James Potter.

“Oh,” Harry said dumbly, and decided not to press the issue. Hopefully Draco would explain later.

Snape swept out into the corridor and swiftly headed towards the infirmary office to notify the nurse.

“Lily and I are just going downstairs to have a bite to eat,“ Narcissa said. “Meanwhile, you boys can catch up. It’s wonderful to see you awake, Harry dear. No doubt Lucius will be pleased, too.”

“Bye,” Harry said weakly.

“Do try to get some rest too, though, won’t you, Harry?” Lily urged. “You’ll still have all the time in the world to talk as much as you want to later, when you’re feeling a bit better.”

The two women left the room and once they’d closed the door behind them, Harry emitted a long breath. “What the fuck is this place?” he said sharply, his head reeling from more than simply pain at this point.

Draco chuckled. “Welcome to Hogwarts in 1998, Harry, but not as we remember it.”

“Wait. So we’re in seventh year?”

“Indeed, albeit it a very different seventh year.”

“Yeah, I’ve er- noticed that.”

“Care to venture a guess as to what’s missing?” Draco grinned. “I’ll give you a hint: it’s something rather important.”

“Quidditch?” It was a lame response, Harry had to admit, but embarrassingly enough, it was also the first thing that sprang to mind.

“No. Not quite.” Draco took his wand out of his robe pocket and Transfigured a paper cup into a mirror. “Take a look for yourself, Harry.”

Harry frowned, and when he caught sight of his own reflection, he couldn’t help but gasp. There was no sign of a lightning bolt scar. So not only were his parents alive… “Voldemort!” he all but yelled.

“Never rose to power,” Draco said plainly.

“Bloody hell!” Harry sank back into his pillows. “So what… What else? And where’s Tom? Is he…?”

Draco smiled. “He’s fine. I’ll explain it all in detail later, Potter, much later. First, you really should get some more sleep, you know. You’ve been sent into another dimension. It’s pretty taxing on one’s system.”

“Sometimes I remember something, or I think I do, but I also know the thing I remember didn’t actually happen,” Harry remarked, suddenly realising something. “Unless it did over here…”

“Yes, you’ll experience a lot of that over the next few days. Confusing as hell, but at least it’ll help bring you up to speed pretty quickly.”

Harry frowned. “When I first came to King’s Cross to board the Hogwarts Express,” he said uncertainly, “I saw you standing on the Platform and I decided you were going to be my friend.”

“Really? And why was that?”

Harry blushed. “Um, I thought you were the cutest thing I’d ever seen.”

Draco laughed in a carefree way Harry had never seen him laugh before. “Of course I was. Now get some more sleep, Potter. You need it.”

Harry dozed off before he could protest.

* * *

“So, how’s he taking it?”

“Not too badly. He’s pretty confused, but not terribly shaken up, as far as I can tell.”

“Did he scream when he learned the truth about Snape? Or faint? I expect that must have been a fairly… _memorable_ moment.”

“Um, honestly, I don’t think he knows about that yet. I certainly didn’t tell him.”

“I _can_ hear you, you know,” the boy on the bed cut in. “So what is it about Snape?”

Harry opened his eyes and readjusted his glasses. He smiled widely when it registered with him who the third person in the room actually was.

“Hello, Harry. Missed me?”

Harry tried to act casual, just for a moment, but soon decided, _Sod it_. Not caring about the onslaught of dizziness that was bound to follow, he bolted upright and threw his arms around Tom’s neck.

“Yes,” he replied, his voice shaking with emotion. “I was dead worried when I woke up, about the both of you. So, er—we, the three of us, we’re together and… well… we’re okay, aren’t we?”

“Yes,” Tom said and kissed Harry’s unblemished forehead. “Apparently, I showed up right after the explosion. Or rather, I reappeared, because it seems someone bearing my name and fitting my description went missing without a trace some time in the forties. Does that sound familiar to anyone here?” He grinned meaningfully.

“Wow,” Harry said. “So, it looks like we did it?”

“Yes, it would appear so.”

Harry smiled brightly. His head was reeling from the surrealism of it all, but still, he couldn’t be happier, because with the way things had turned out, everything was absolutely perfect.

_Everything._

Except…

“B-But, er…“ Remembering something, he pulled back slightly, releasing Tom. “What were you two saying just now? Something about Snape?”

“Ah yes. Snape.“ Tom grinned in a way that could only be described as positively devious. “Go on, Draco, tell him. He has to find out sooner or later, and it would be even more awkward if he were to hear it from the man himself.”

“Right.” Draco cleared his throat. “Harry,” he said in the most neutral tone he could manage, “Severus Snape is your stepfather. Your parents divorced, on not terribly amicable terms, a week after your third birthday, and your mother remarried a good year later. Your father, meanwhile…”

“Yes?” Harry asked hesitantly and held his breath in fearful anticipation.

Draco smiled apologetically. “I’m sad to say that James Potter is presently living with Sirius Black, and… er…“

“And he definitely means that in the biblical sense,” Tom supplied helpfully.

Harry’s eyes grew wide as saucers. “Snap-Si-Da-Bibli-_What_?!” he spluttered.

Draco smiled sheepishly and shrugged. “Sorry, Potter. Nothing to do with me.”

Harry swallowed hard and tried to gather his bearings.

So his father was involved with his godfather (was that even legally permitted, he wondered vaguely?), while his mother (Godric-on-a-stick!) was now Mrs Severus Snape, wife to the one and only Potions Master who, back home, had hated Harry with the passion of a thousand flaming cauldrons.

Harry took a deep, calming breath.

All right, he told himself, so maybe things weren’t quite that _perfect_ around here, not by a long shot, but they could have been far worse, couldn’t they? Life could still be considered… _adequate_, couldn’t it?

All of a sudden, Harry felt rather faint.

“Come here, you,” Tom said, sensing the boy’s distress and pulling him into a fierce hug. “It’s not the end of the world. We’re safe and we’re together, and your parents are alive. Granted, they’re not without their flaws, but then, who is? This is real life, Harry, not some fairytale.”

“I’m sure you’ve noticed,” Draco interjected with a small smile, “that my parents are here, too. They’re doing very well, and father… He’s far kinder than I remember him.”

With that, Draco joined in the embrace and finally, Harry had to admit that Tom was right.

His parents were alive. So were Sirius and probably Cedric, Dumbledore, Nott, Crabbe, and all the others. He needn’t worry about a Dark Lord here, and of course, he had Draco and Tom, the two unlikely people he had grown to love and who had changed his life in more ways than he could count.

Harry let out a relieved breath and with a wide smile, he finally decided that, taking everything into consideration, things were more, so much more than merely _adequate_.

This was a future he could live with, a life that had been worth fighting for.


	25. Epilogue – The Summer Of ‘98

It was the end of July, a few days prior to Harry’s birthday. He’d be turning eighteen this year, an age he once thought he’d never live to see.

In the majestic Malfoy Château in the heart of the French Provence, on one of the large balconies overlooking endless acres of lavender and sunflowers, he and Draco were sitting at a small table, playing a game of wizard’s chess.

“What are you grinning about, Potter?” Draco asked smugly. “You look like a loon, and you do realise you’re losing again as well, don’t you?”

“Yeah, you’ve finally found something you can beat me at, Draco. Well done.” Harry shook his head in amusement. “I was just thinking how beautiful and peaceful it is here, and how glad I am that…“

“None of the _parentals_ insisted on us staying at The Manor, Godric’s Hollow or heavens forbid, Grimmauld Place for the summer hols?”

“Yeah. It’s a lot more private here. Besides…“ He grins. “No offence, but your father still scares the living crap out of me. He’s so bloody _nice_ here, it’s positively terrifying.”

“Really, Potter.” Draco chuckled. “I far prefer Father like this. Severus, on the other hand… Well, it boggles the mind how he’s become so… so..“

“Human?” Harry offered.

“I was going to settle for ‘mellow’, but I suppose ‘human’ works just as well; and I’m sorry to say, but your father’s a genuine dickhead, though.”

Harry sighed. Part of him wanted to protest. This was, after all, his dad Draco was insulting. But even though Harry was technically a Slytherin here, in his heart of hearts he still remained far too much of an honest Gryffindor to try and deny the obvious truth. So he simply said, “I know,” sighed deeply, and tried not to think of how much of a disappointment the illustrious James Potter had turned out to be. At least some comfort was to be found in how his mother had remarried someone who was actually worthy of her, even if that person, of all possible people, happened to be Severus Snape.

“Personally,” Tom cut in. He was sitting a few feet away, leafing through ‘La Vérité Magique’, a French wizarding newspaper. “I’m more concerned about that daft Bellatrix woman. Sometimes when she looks at me, I have to wonder if she wants to eat me alive.”

Draco chuckled. “She probably does. Mother mentioned in her latest Owl that the crazy wench even hit on Father last week. He wasn’t amused, or even remotely flattered.”

“I always thought it was Azkaban that had made her lose her marbles,” Harry remarked. “Who’d have thought she was off her rocker all along?”

The other two just shrugged.

“Sorry to interrupt, Masters.” A house-elf appeared seemingly out of nowhere. “But Tuppy be needing to know: how many visitors and which food?”

“Five guests will be joining us today,” Draco replied. “Hermione Granger, Luna Lovegood, Gregory Goyle, Vincent Crabbe and Ronald Weasley.”

The elf blinked, well aware that the Malfoys and the Weasleys, although both old wizarding families, had never been on terribly cordial terms; they certainly never mingled or invited one another over on social occasions. “W-Weasley, Master Draco?”

“Yes, Tuppy. Please don’t look at me like that. We have to accept, sad though it is, that Hermione is dating the freckled git; Merlin only knows why.”

“Hey!“ Harry piped up.

“Save it, Potter.” Draco gave him a pointed look. “I invited him, didn’t I? I told him he was _welcome_, even, so no need to get your knickers in a twist.”

“Sorry to interrupt again, Master Draco, but”—Tuppy fidgeted nervously— “which foods to be serving?”

Draco moved to stand. “Come on, I’ll show you,” he said and left with the elf in tow.

Harry stared after them. He could feel the warm sun playing with his hair and lightly tanning his skin, and he was amazed at how content and relaxed he felt here, at this very moment. He never wanted this summer to end, even though he also knew it was just the beginning of his new life, and that in all likelihood, from hereon out, things would only get better.

“So, Potter,” Tom said, breaking the odd silence. He put down his paper, rose from his chair and walked over to where Harry was seated. “Everything all right? You seemed miles away just now.”

Harry looked up. “Yeah,” he replied with an impish grin. “I’m great.”

“Good. Then I suggest we go and see what Malfoy’s up to, before he lands us with escargots or something equally vile for dinner.”

“What?” Harry made a face. “He wouldn’t!”

“There’s a Weasley coming over,” Tom pointed out. “Draco most certainly would. So…“ He held out his hand. “Shall we?”

Harry nodded. He took the proffered hand and allowed himself to be pulled to his feet. Standing face to face with Tom, he couldn’t help but smile. Impulsively, he threw his arms around the boy and kissed him thoroughly.

When they broke apart again, Tom shook his head, amused. “What was that for, you daft Gryffindor in Slytherin guise? Not that I’m complaining, per se.”

Harry swallowed the sudden lump in his throat. “It’s just that… Well… I love you,” he blurted out at last.

Even though Harry spoke those words to Draco constantly, it was the first time he said them to Tom, and while finally doing so made him more than a little nervous and apprehensive as well, he was mostly relieved. After everything that had happened, everything the three of them had been through together, he considered it wrong to stay vague about such matters. His boyfriends (definitely _boyfriends_ now, not just lovers, Harry decided) deserved better.

Tom smirked. “I must confess you’ve rather grown on me as well, Potter. Now come along, before Draco inflicts too much damage downstairs.”

Harry nodded. With a wide grin on his face, he followed Tom down to the kitchens.

  


**\--- FIN ---**

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Broken](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10960674) by [Cutie_314](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cutie_314/pseuds/Cutie_314)




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